Today there was a storm here at the beach in San Diego. I walked home from the Vine at around eight, and the light over the ocean was the color of turquoise. The palm trees were blowing, and the air was warm and smelled of fish and sulphur, but in a good way. How I love living here. I leave the crowd at the bar, one kind of heaven, and step out into warm salt, another kind of heaven. Anyway.

I have been spending a lot of time at the Vine recently. I can’t help it. It’s so awesome there, sort of like a family with Brian, Hannah and baby Emma and Bob & Margaret, and the regulars like Andy and Keith who I knew before but now are like extensions on either side of me half the time. Seriously, sometimes I go there thinking I will just stay an hour, just to get out of the house, but then the great divide opens and I fall into the black hole. I am not complaining – I love it. I love that there is this remarkable new gathering place right down the street and I love that I am a part of it. Now when I think about moving away I am like, how can I? How could I move away from the Vine?

Crazy, I know.

So, last night, uh, at THE VINE, I hooked up with this guy Tyler who had burned me a copy of his recording of Spoon’s show at Canes. I found his recording on archive.org and I wrote to him, begging him to burn it for me. Long story short and a few months later we met last night and he handed over said disk, in return for two bottles of wine that he probably didn’t expect but hey, gratitude knows no bounds, at least with me. Mark was there, and after just a few minutes, we all realized that Tyler was standing RIGHT BEHIND ME at that show. The reason we all remember is, we were all there, waiting patiently though American Music Club’s set, and right before Spoon came on these two big frat dudes came up and barrelled their way right in front of Tyler. And I was like, “dude, push your way in front of those dudes (dickheads.)” Tyler was really mellow and he did not want to push. I would have pushed, also kicked them and pulled out their hair, because I was on a mission that night, but whateves. In the long run we all remember each other, which is weird, and he was recording the fucking show right behind me, and I now have that show playing in my living room. Which is also weird. Also hella cool.

So now, listening to that night that I was part of, being like, three feet away from those tiny speakers hidden inside of a beanie, worn by some kid that I had no idea that I would ever meet, I am suddenly stricken with a new bout of the Spoon disease. Meaning I can’t stop listening, meaning there is no world besides the world that Britt Daniel sings in. It is all encompassing, and a wonderful place to be – obsessed. Obsession is the key to enlightenment. Seriously, it is better than sex. I am in love with listening. That, and bathing in Taleggio cheese sauce.

So. Listen to some of the songs that Tyler has got there on archive.org. In a perfect world, you would listen to the whole show, but if you decide to choose just a few tunes, check out Small Stakes (high energy Spoon at their finest) then Vittorio D (one of the best ballads ever and this live version has a one of those Britt playing with his guitar moments that I adore) followed by They Never Got You (totally, completely brilliant, especially live.) I am in total awe. To be in love, and to have a song go on and on, like They Never Got You does… well. It doesn’t get much better than that. I know I was in a complete and total heaven that night, all wrapped up in Britt and the music. Now I have a record of it. Thanks Tyler.

I love, love, love it. From Vittorio D:

I took a river and the river was long
I want you to stay course I want you to go
I took a river and the river was long and goes on

I will never go. I am a junkie.

OK. Here’s some stuff on Venice.

As I mentioned before, there are new wine bars all over town. On Salizzada San Canciano in Cannaregio, there are three – yes, THREE – all within a two and a half foot distance from each other. The one I liked best is Un Mondo di Vino (A World of Wine) at #5984. Great staff, good wines by the glass, and some really interesting cichetti like mussels topped with tomato sauce, or marinated salmon. The cichetti were heavy on vegetables and all looked very fresh. There was a constant stream of locals in and out both times I was there. Three bars in one busy calle? Awesome. A destination, even if you are not headed to Fondamenta Nove or the Miracoli church. “Which Nero d’ Avola?” The girl asked us one afternoon. Which means there is more than one on the board. Which is really cool.

Another cool new find was brought to my attention by the watercolorist Italo Chiarion. In the tiny, uber busy Campiello Corner there is a wine bar called Mai Tardi that is run by the couple who used to own Ostaria Boccadoro. The Campiello is a thoroughfare between Rialto and both the train station and the S.S. Giovanni & Paolo area – a crossroads – and the two bars there were never anything special. Until now! Mai Tardi seems unassuming from the outside, but I really like Donatella and Enrico, the couple who own it. Enrico has completed his Italian Sommelier program and he has some really good, interesting wines on his list, plus a good house wine. They offer flights and a weekly bottle special (when I was there, a 1999 Amarone for 35 Euro.) The bar itself is tiny, but the outdoor tables are perfect for hanging out and watching the constant stream of locals and tourists on their way wherever. The awning outside says “Enobar.” Cannaregio 5600, in the Campiello just past Salizzada San Grisostomo (coming from Rialto.)

There is a huge, new and fairly upscale bar and restaurant called Dogana on top of the Billa supermarket on Strada Nova. I went up and checked it out but did not stay to drink anything. It looks like it will be pretty popular when warm weather comes. Drinks and cocktails are pricey, but wine by the glass is reasonable enough. It is super close to La Cantina Wine Bar and we all know where my loyalties lie. But, will be interesting to watch. The entrance is just to the left of the supermarket, near Campo San Felice and the bar is open until 1:30 A.M.

My friend Amelia, who owns Corte 1321, the most awesome B & B in Venice, set us all up for a couple of dinners at the Circolo La Buona Forchetta down the street from her B & B. Both nights, we sat down and chef/owner Marinella Iop proceeded to send out course after course – some traditional, some eclectic. We had an avocado and tomato salad topped some roulades of smoked salmon and goat cheese, perfectly cooked schie (tiny shrimp) with hot, bubbling polenta right out of the pot, shrimp with onions and vinegar… the best thing I ate there was this incredible soup – a clear broth with slices of fresh asparagus and prawns and small chunks of parmesan cheese, and an occasional blast of cayenne. On the soup night, we were too full to eat a secondo, so Marinella sent out three different salads, then cheese and fruit, then cookies. So much for being full. The house wine is OK. San Polo 1295 (near San Aponal). You must reserve. 339-650-2086 (and she doesn’t speak English so break that phrase book out.)

All of us ate one night at Al Garanghelo – first Jonathan, Colleen and Colleen’s friend Ruth did, then me, Bob and Margaret. When we walked in we didn’t realize that the table we were waiting for was occupied by friends, so that was kind of cool. Anyhow this is a really low-key, traditional osteria near the fish market. The owner is very friendly, and also likes a bit of wine himself as far as I can tell. We all ate well and very cheaply here. Awesome lasagna (almost tasted like it had chorizo in it, the meat sauce was so rich) and the pasta with shrimp and hot pepper flakes was something I would not have thought of but was really tasty. For the secondi Jonathan thought his Fegato all Veneziana (liver with onions) was excellent, even if the accompanying polenta was a bit boring (we all got spoiled at the Circolo) and the fried calamari was also good, though I was awfully full by the time it came around. House wine was good, and the price unbelievable – about 20 Euro per person for way more food than we could comfortably eat. Of course we ate it anyway. Calle dei Botteri 1570 in San Polo. There aren’t many tables… but there is a really long bar, always a plus in my book. You might want to reserve. 041-721721. Their website is straight out of 1994.

Not new, but new for me: Vini da Gigio. I was totally blown away by this place. I think I need to preface this by saying that when I lived in Venice, I had a very small budget, so pricier places were out of my league, and even when I go back now I tend to go for places like Al Garanghelo. The crazy thing is, Vini da Gigio is not that expensive and when I lived there I could have treated myself once in a while. Oh well, live and learn. Anyhow. Bob, Margaret and I ate here because Nan said we had to. Thanks god for Nan! I will never forget the meal we had. We started with a basic antipasto of grilled vegatables that was perfect in it’s simplicity and prepared us for the next course. We split two primi between the three of us – gnocchi with pesto and shrimp, and ravioli stuffed with arugula and cheese and topped a Taleggio cheese sauce. Those ravioli – mi dio. They were like little ethereal puffs of goodness. I would like to write about them in sexual terms, but I don’t want to offend anybody. Plus the sauce was so awesome that I wanted to bathe in it. We all had a secondo – fegato alla veneziana for me, lamb for Margaret, and duck for Bob. All three were winners, especially Margaret’s – ever had deep fried lamb? Well, it is pretty damned good. We also had a bottle of Brunello which drove the price of the meal up – but all this stuff, including a 65 Euro bottle of wine plus a 10 Euro mezzo of Soave, cost only 169 Euro. Pretty amazing. House wine was way reasonable. I’m a believer. Cannaregio 3628, off the Strada Nova and again, near Campo San Felice. You must reserve at 041-528-5140.

We found a really cool little bar after eating at La Zucca one night. The best thing about the bar is the comfy seating area in an adjoining room. There aren’t too many bars open late in Santa Croce, so if you find yourself wandering around after a meal at La Zucca or Il Refolo check it out: Sweet Revenge, Santa Croce 1539 on the Calle delle Tentor that heads back to San Polo – not the Calle delle Tentor that La Zucca is on. They serve up a nice sized grappa and are open until 1:00 A.M.

That’s enough for now. Gotta eat.

First things first. While reading this entry, about last night’s Elbow show at the Avalon in Hollywood, you might think about listening to the band’s awesome set on KCRW Morning Becomes Eclectic. Better yet, read this later, and watch the set, first.

Sometimes I don’t take very good care of myself. Just home from Italy for two days and I take off for Hollywood because I had to see this show. So, 250 miles, half a bottle of wine, and three Absolute Mandarin and sodas later, I am feeling a little tired. Tired, but still tingly because that show was oh, so worth it.

I have loved this band since their first record came out in 2000. They’ve got two other records now, and all three are great. I saw them open for Doves in 2002 (the show where I, uh, lost a chunk of my eardrums) but they haven’t been here in a while. And definitely not as a headliner.

I love Guy Garvey’s voice. He looks like a big burly blue collar worker but he has the voice of an angel. Only, I don’t think he is an angel – there are a lot of references to unangelic behavior, in the lyrics, and onstage.

To be totally honest, it’s kind of hot.

Anyway, me and Teachick had plans to hang out before the show, and then she decided to COME to the show. Which was awesome. We ate some Thai food first, then got to the Avalon right before the opener. I was shocked that the room was so empty. But it was good for us because we got a spot on a little raised platform to the left of the floor. This is where I stood with several dozen people when I saw Spoon there (pre-Britt obsession, otherwise I would have been on the rail.) Also on the platform is a little seating area, and a wall that seperates the tables from the standers. The tables were taken up by six or seven fratesque looking dudes. Curious, I thought, that they would be at a Elbow show. They looked more like the Dave Matthews type.

L.A.’s own Earlimart opened. I have one of their records, and like it. But onstage they kind of sucked. But, opening acts are never given much of a chance, so I am not going to hold it against them. One of the frat boys was heckling them pretty bad. I thought we were in for it with these guys.

But then, before Elbow came on, I heard one of the guys talking about Sigur Ros. SIGUR FUCKING ROS. I was shocked. I tugged on his sleeve. “Did you see the Sigur Ros show here last summer?” I asked him. “Sigur Ros played HERE?” He asked. He was pretty blown away. “We are from Vegas,” he said. Then, to his friends: “DUDES. She saw Sigur Ros HERE.” They were all appropriately envious that I saw Sigur Ros in such an intimate venue.

Then he told me that it was his friend’s bachelor party, and instead of having a party with strippers or whatever, all those guys drove from Vegas, to see Elbow. I was shocked, also impressed. Lesson learned, never judge a book by it’s cover. Also, homie’s fiancee is one lucky person.

Finally, Elbow comes on, and it was pretty much a perfect show. Moments of breathtaking beauty, then walls of sound that could slam you on the ground. The frat boys were enthralled, and I could barely keep still, I was so into it. Teachick wants to buy all the records, now. The crowd was small, but happy and respectful. I am starting to change my mind about L.A. show-goers, at least the ones that go to shows where the band doesn’t have a hit on the radio or a song on a television show. I love the Avalon – the room is beautiful, and the acoustics are good. Plus their bartenders seem to be mixing a stronger drink. All this and Elbow, too. Life is perfect, except for the hangovers.

So I have one heartfelt plea – Elbow, please come to San Diego and play the Casbah!

Today I made it home in one hour and thirty five minutes. This is almost impossible as any Southern Californian will tell you. Also, it cost me $40 to fill my tank today. Also, I got the mega number in the lottery. But no other numbers, sadly. Otherwise I would be on a plane to San Francisco to see Elbow again tonight.

In this world we live in it is easy to move between two continents quite quickly, so quickly that one day you can be eating pasta and saying grazie and the next, eating tacos and trying NOT to say grazie because, face it, homegirl, you aren’t in Italy anymore and saying grazie is just going to come off as pretentious, or weird. Never mind that your brain hasn’t caught up with your body quite yet.

Hurtling through space in a tube is weird. Every time I do it, I sort of cover myself in an emotional lip balm, telling myself this is what I have to do, in order to get over, in order to get back. But let’s face it, a day, or a day and a half, or two days, in transit via air is a bizarre way to spend your time, no matter how glamorous or appealing the destination might be. You spend this time in silence with a people you are already suspicious of in the boarding line (are they going to sit next to me? Keep me up all night? Maybe blow up the plane? Will I live through this?) and the workers of the flight, who are always saying hello, thank you, danke, arrivederci or whatever on boarding or departing, but who don’t really have that exact same embracing attitude for the other nine hours of the flight (at least not in coach.) Not to say that they aren’t nice. I probably don’t ask, so I shouldn’t expect.

Sometimes, flying over Greenland or wherever, I wish it was a hundred years ago and I was on a ship going to Europe. The ship would take a week to cross the Atlantic, and it wouldn’t be a tube full of bad smells. But the reality is, I could easily be in coach on a ship (third class) and that would kind of suck. It probably wouldn’t be like all those fun cool peasants dancing on Titanic – it would be a slovenly rat infested pit of hell. On an airline, the classes of service are only differentiated by the airline attendants announcement not to cross over into Business class. But the people in Business have mostly upgraded from coach, or their companies paid for the ticket. The bounderies are pretty loose, these days. I like that the class barrier has almost completely been broken down, unless maybe you are traveling on the Orient Express or something.

But still, in coach, I put myself in a mode that is: just get though it for the next eighteen hours. And then I do and I am home and it is good and like it never happened, but I have also seen some movies I never would have seen, a few that I might remember, a few that I can’t today, even though I flew just yesterday. Valium, red wine, that slow hum. Moving into the unconscience while remaining sort of conscience. That, is flying.

It is my last day. I have that sad feeling in my stomach. I do not know when I will be able to come back, so I don’t want to go.

It is almost noon on a perfect, clear day, and I am alone for the first time in days. I want to sit outside in Campo San Giacomo dell Orio and drink Prosecco, then go and eat a pizza. Or, I want to hit all my favorite bars one last time for a tramezzino here, a cichetto or two there…. how can you beat sitting outside in Venice, on a day like this? If I could only make the sad feeling go away.

It is always good to get home to Ocean Beach though, and I know that Bob and Margaret and I are going to drive Brian crazy every day at The Vine, talking about everything we ate and drank. Like the rucola ravioli with Taleggio sauce at Vini da Gigio or the pumpkin flan at La Zucca. Or the Refosco we had at the Maitardi bar when we got stuck in there for hours because of rain.

Every time I come here, I give another piece of myself to Venice, and Venice gives another piece of herself to me. There is something so comforting in knowing her well, but then, not knowing her at all, because she is always changing, but also staying the same. Does that make any sense?

So, onward, to the first glass of Soave, and the last sixteen hours. Tomorrow I will be home.

Man, time is going so fast. I cannot believe we have already been here a week. Colleen is running out of time, and I can tell she is bummed. Jonathan went to the airport last night and his Easyjet flight was cancelled, with no one around to rebook anything, or even explain anything. So he is back in Venice and staying with us in our apartment until Saturday. I guess it doesn’t suck getting stuck in Venice, especially when there is a couch to crash on.

Yesterday I met Nan who wrote the book “Italy, Instructions for Use” at La Cantina. A bunch of other people came around and it was a typical La Cantina evening – in other words, AWESOME. Before Nan came Colleen and her friend Ruth and Jonathan and I all showed up, and they all ordered off the chalkboard but I told Andrea to bring me whatever, so he shows up at our table with a double magnum and a decanter. Everyone cracked up, because it is pretty clear that a) I am the wino in the group and b) my reputation precedes me.

We also ate at da Alberto for lunch and as usual, I have this question to ask: why go anywhere else? This is my main problem here – I would rather make sure my old favorites are holding up rather than checking out all these new places which seem to all have carbon copy menus and too-high prices. And after the stress of Jonathan missing his flight last night, and coming around to our apartment at 9 or so, I was like, hey, let’s go to Casa Mia for a pizza! It’s really close! So we went there and it seriously is like three feet away from our front door. Me and Jonathan split one with radicchio di Treviso and salami which is laid on top of the pizza after baking (my favorite) and one with braesola and rucola. I totally pounded it. I don’t know how I am NOT going to go back to Casa Mia. But I have to break free of the ties that bind me.

This afternoon my friends Bob & Margaret arrive. They are part of The Vine Posse and so basically, the next three days are going to be wine bar steroid action. They will help me in my research, for sure. To get us started I am going out to the airport to get them, then we will take the Alilaguna to San Marco, have a nice bottle of wine on there, and they can arrive as they should: on the water, approaching the Doge’s Palace, disembarking on the Riva, and walking straight into Piazza San Marco. Then we will walk to Amelia’s B & B, where they are staying (Corte 1321 in San Polo.)

The weather has been great – didn’t need the rainboots after all, so I think I will use them as cookie storage on the way home. You can get a lot of packs of cookies into a pair of rainboots. Nan says I must eat at Vini da Gigio, so we do that Sunday night; tonight will be some pub cichetti action, and tomorrow everyone will eat together somewhere. Thinking about it is making me hungry, so I am off to meet the others for lunch……

Last night’s 5 star lounge tour was so fun! Colleen – who is Super Crafty, made these cool little decorated books to carry around and to “rate” the bars. We rated – one through five – on stuff like crowd, music, vibe… we started at Harry’s Bar and it is no secret that I love, love, love Harry’s. We got there early enough to score some seats at the bar, almost everything scored a five except the crowd, mostly because of one dude who screamed into his cell phone “I AM DRINKING AT HARRY’S BAR, BROTHER!” What a doofus. We got prosecco, of course, because it is only seven euro (up from six on the last visit.) We wanted to save our big bucks for the next stop.

The next stop was the Cipriani. We took the private launch out, and the captain was oh, so cool. He let a little girl sit in his seat and helped her to drive us across the lagoon. Alas, when we got to the Cipriani, NO BARS WERE OPEN. Hello-ey, if you were spending a thousand bucks a night on a room, wouldn’t this be just a little bit of a drag? I guess they don’t open the bars until April. So we got back on the boat right away, to the amazement of the captain. “Where are you going?” He said. “To the DANIELI!” I said.

It is really cool going across in that boat. Much better than a vaporetto, I must say.

So. The Danieli! Fantastico… it is like drinking inside of a palace. Actually, it IS drinking inside of a palace. Marble columns, red fabric on the walls. About four guys came around to get our drink order before we were finally ready. The drinks came with a dish of almonds, hazelnuts and spicy little crackers. A guy that looked almost exactly like Chris, the husband of slowtalk moderator Kim, played guitar backed by a cheesy electronic accompaniment. I highly recommend going to the Danieli for an overpriced drink. The only crazy thing was the bathroom – it was totally thrashed, empty toilet paper rolls everywhere, water all over the floor, no paper towels. It was so shockingly bad that I took some pictures with a paper coaster with “The Luxury Collection” propped up against one of the toilet paper rolls. But all in all this was definitely our favorite spot.

Walking on to the Gritti Palace, a mist had settled and it was COLD. It has been so pleasant that I did not think to dress very warmly, and it was that mist that goes inside your skin. So getting to the nice, warm Gritti Palace was a relief. Their bar is not nearly as sumptuous and fanciful as the Danieli, but the deck outside must be great when it is not totally wet and cold. The bar was made of carved, Istrian marble and the bar guys were really cute (though no wheres near as hot as those dudes at Harry’s.) Since it is called the Longhi bar, they have Longhi reproductions all over, which is pretty cool. Also way too many of those horrid Murano chandeliers. I would go back, but only to sit outside on the Grand Canal. Jonathan said, yeah but you can do the same thing at the Accademia Pizzeria, right? Right, but – HORRORS – they are doing something on the canal there and the entire patio is ripped out. I don’t know what they are going to do at the Pizzeria, how can a business survive if you take away the dining room? I am going down there to talk to them about it. Venice without the Accademia Pizzeria? Hopefully not for long…

After the Gritti we were starving (one cannot exist on hazelnuts alone) so we went to Casin dei Nobili for a pizza. I am happy to say that places are starting to stay open later here. There also seems to be a lot of street drinking and partying way into the night… is is becoming a six month Carnivale again?

Last night, a huge wind whipped up and banged the shutters around and it was kind of insane. I thought for sure I would wake up to stormy weather, but instead, blue skies and no jacket required. I even saw some tourist in a dress in Piazza San Marco this morning.

So far, a tramezzino con gamberetti e radicchio and a glass of Soave… now on to the next bar that needs to be checked. I sort of love it.

Sono qui. I cannot believe it has taken me so long to get into an internet place, because we have been pretty much running since we got here. The slowtrav party on Friday was awesome and kept both of us awake (both of us had severe cases of the lag, me because there was a friggen high school tour on my flight who seemed to think a transatlantic flight was an all-night party/place to rehearse the Star Spangled Banner.) It was great to meet Laurie and Sharon and everyone else (10 of us?) Saturday we ran all over, did a bit of a pub crawl with Laurie and her husband and dad, then ate at Boccadoro with Holly, also from the slowtalk board. Boccadoro has a new chef and a waiter from Liverpool. It was a good but all of us were kind of shocked that Holly got charged eleven euro for a plate of pasta with tomato sauce. Venice is changing even more rapidly than before. There are new wine bars and hip looking restaurants everywhere now. I am going to try to concentrate on the new bars, because they are MANY. The days of the fifty cent ombra are over – it is all about the three Euro glasses of Soave, now. Good in a way, but bad in a way. Bad for the Venetians, for sure.

It is weird to be here, mostly because it feels like I have never left. Even with all these new trendy wine bars. It is like I had a long sleep, and woke up to more mirrors and neon.

Sunday we went to Ravenna to look at all the mosaics. I loved the town and the mosaics – well, I cannot even describe how colorful and visually striking they are. I want to run out and buy a bunch of books about Ravenna and the lives of Justinian and Theodora now. We had a good meal there and ate so much we were forced to drink some grappa after to feel better. Cool little road trip, and now I have a lot of work to do.

Last night I hooked up with my friend David (he works at the Wine House in L.A.) and some of his friends and we did another pub crawl, but this one was four bars and an insane amount of wine. But this is what I love about Venice – there is no driving, and for some reason you never feel too bad the next day. Jonathan from slowtalk arrived from London and I hooked up with him and Colleen for a really late pizza. Diavolo con radicchio. YUM.

Tonight we are doing the five star lounge tour – Colleen hooked up this idea. Meeting Jonathan at Harry’s Bar, then taking the private launch out to the bar at the Cipriani, then on to the Danieli and the Gritti. Yikes! It is 4:15 and I gotta get home to put my Armani on (yeah right). Well at least make myself a little more presentable.

Time is moving way too fast, but it always does, in Venice.

Last night, walking home from The Vine, a plane flew over and once again I got to thinking about noise. My life is full of noise here. The wild parrots are back after their winter wherever. Every morning they scream and yell at each other in the most obnoxious manner possible. I feel tremendous guilt whenever I have to kill a spider, but I want to annihilate those parrots. OB is under the flight path, so we start hearing jets very early, and the jets go all day long. My next door neighbor starts clomping around like an elephant about 6:00 A.M. and my other neighbor walks by my bedroom window in heels every morning at 5:30. This is the reason I am always up at 6:30 A.M. It sucks.

So, since I am leaving for Venice tomorrow, I started thinking about Venice noise. Life starts early there, too. Maybe not quite AS early, but early. It’ll be very quiet, then the garbage men, who come every day, will ring every bell in every apartment until someone buzzes them it. The shopkeepers will start to raise the inpenetrable metal gates that guard every window, every door through the night. A thousand espresso machines start whirring. Then the heels start up and down the calli, and the Ciaoing begins. Somehow, it is better to wake up this way.

On this trip Colleen and I are staying in Campo San Apostoli. It’s a campo I know well, and I can see every nook and cranny in my mind right now, while sitting halfway across the world with a bunch of parrots screeching outside my window. Campo San Apostoli is not a great campo for hanging out in, like Campo Santa Margherita or Campo San Giacomo dell Orio. It is a thoroughfare for the hordes that come every day to the train station and the car park and make their way to Piazza San Marco. The hordes walk right past the campo without ever seeing it. Some people stop at the little cafe there, and I like that cafe, except for the guy who runs it is kind of nasty. I call him Little Hitler. Inside the cafe, there is a guy who works making the sandwiches and coffee, and if you are lucky he will wait on you. He is tall and skinny and pimply, almost German looking, and I use to have a little crush on him. I call him Punk Rock Boy. Little Hitler’s sounds are generally yelling at tourists who sit down at his tables with cones of gelato they bought on Strada Nova. The sounds of Punk Rock Boy are sweet and mostly in my imagination.

There is a pizzeria in Campo San Apostoli, but I never ate there – only tourists do. Why eat there when two of the best pizzerias are tucked behind the campo, less than a minute’s walk away? There is a tiny hardware store with walls stacked floor to ceiling with whatever you could possibly need for the repair of your 500 year old house. There is a photography shop, a pet shop, and an alimentari. There are a gazillion dogs yapping and kids playing. There is a lot of graffiti. But if you don’t look left coming from the train station, you won’t see, or hear, any of this. You’ll only see the sottoportego that leads you into the tourist heart of Venice, only hear the gondolier’s call. Gondola… gondola….

I dreamed about music all night. In the middle of the night, Thom Yorke talked to me for a long time. I woke up right after, thinking I needed to turn on the light and write down everything he said to me. But I didn’t and then it was all gone. I do remember he wanted to talk, and he said some really cool stuff. He did not shift in his seat and look away like in the Rosanna Arquette documentary “All We Are Saying”. She couldn’t hide her awe and it seemed to make him uncomfortable. In my dream, I was not acting like an idiot, which is what I probably would do in real life – I would be just like Rosanna. In my dream it was all cool. (“All We Are Saying” is a really good documentary, by the way. Check it out.)

I love Radiohead. Passionately. In the documentary Thom says everyone thinks they are weird. I don’t think they are weird, I think they are geniuses who make music to live in.

Radiohead is touring this summer. I am already obsessing about where my seats will be. I’ve just found what I wrote about the last show I saw, in September 2003…

“I was disappointed with Friday nights show at the Hollywood Bowl – our seats were way too far away to see anything, and while there were a couple of great moments (Creep, Fake Plastic Trees) I left feeling there was no way anything could ever compare with the show I saw in Verona in May of 2001.

Was I ever wrong. Sunday at Coors was so mind blowing… we got there and our seats were five rows back from the pit, so we were only about 30 feet from the stage. This was the closest I have ever been and it was great to see Ed making faces and playing with the crowd, to see Jonny move around playing what seemed like a gazillion instruments, to see Colin at all (he is always hiding in the back.) Sometimes the five of them seemed so tuned to each other… it was a very, very special night.

Part of the reason I came away from the Hollywood Bowl disappointed was that many of my favorites weren’t played, but at Coors it was like my dream set list. After 2 +2 = 5, Sit Down Stand Up, and Where I End and You Begin, they played Lucky which I desperately wanted to hear. It was slow, lush. Fantastic. Then into an immense Myxomatosis, it was LOUD and intense. Cool green lighting on this one. I’ll fast forward – Kid A, Sail to the Moon, Talk Show Host, Paranoid Android… then, finally, JUST. I thought I would die. After three shows without hearing it I was always hoping. But nothing could have prepared me for this moment. This is why bands with three guitars rule. It just about ripped my head off, I almost passed out. The pit is going crazy at this point. Then a sweet and beautiful No Surprises, and a slammin’ Go to Sleep where I was really, really happy I could see Jonny with his crazy guitar solo at the end (my favorite moment of HTTT I think.) Scatterbrain and You and Whose Army (got to see Thom’s mugging at the Hollywood show too, because of the screens – pretty funny.) Idioteque got everyone going again. The Gloaming next, and then There There (mi dio – the DRUMMING) and then the first set was done. The first encore opened with Pyramid Song, and I love this song so much I want it played at my funeral. This is Thom at his finest, he just reaches in and grabs your heart and clutches it. National Anthem and Punchdrunk at a Wedding next, then How to Disappear Completely (another breathtaking moment). For the final encore, Karma Police and I was thinking, could they have been better? No. The only thing I wish is that they wouldn’t always end with Everything in it’s Right Place, because then you know it is going to end.

All of them were clapping for us, too. They loved us. It was a great night.”

I can’t wait. I really and truly can’t wait. I am just scared now that they will come when I am in Spain.

Elbow is coming to Hollywood, three days after I get back from Venice. I don’t have any control over this stuff – the ticket is bought and the hotel room booked. That is going to be a great show.