I’m not going to write too much about Sunday’s Independence Jam. It wasn’t a very good day – Miller Lite and White Trash Assholes equals Recipe for Disaster.

Spoon was OK. They were great, actually, but it’s nothing I’ve not seen before. They only played one new song, Britt appeared to be wearing the same outfit I saw him in at their show here almost a year ago… not that this matters, really. But I was, between the assholes and the repetition, not only unmoved but unhappy. Could it be I am falling out of love?

Whatever. The rest of the show was fine, Interpol was good, but it was all pretty bland.

Thankfully, last night made up for a hundred shitty shows. Wife Hannah and daughter Emma being in Wisconsin for a few days, Brian asked me to join him for an early meal at The Vine. We met there and proceeded – with the help of the staff – to drink many fantastic bottles of wine. It was just a perfect Monday evening at The Vine, with a lot of comraderie and a killer dish of pasta with pancetta, broccoli rabe, and Boschetta al Tartufo – a cheese with bits of white truffle. That pasta, with the Nebbiolo and then the Barolo we drank, was really incredible.

It’s always fun to hang out with Brian but to hang out with him on my side of the bar, instead of him waiting on me and everyone else at The Vine, was awesome. There was another dude in there too, John, who looks like the last real OBcian with a beard down to his navel, who instructed me about Permaculture. So not only did I eat some killer food and drink some unbelievable wine but I also learned something completely new.

Eventually Brian and I went to John’s house and this is where the evening got trippy. John lives in a house that I have walked by a million times and I always loved the way it looked. It looks, well, like a house in OB should look – hippiesque, unkempt, welcoming, funky. So we go in and then to the backyard where there are a series of lean-to type structures and dudes are back there, living in them! It’s like a jungle, like the treehouse at Disneyland but real, like some kind of crazy dream. Maybe it was the wine, I dunno, but it was intriguing.

Anyhow. For every bad day, a great night. Right?

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