It was unbelievably gorgeous in San Francisco today. Last night was a great show, way crackin' for a Monday. The few of us that slept at ol' girl's Travelodge room got corned beef and brisket at Tommy's Joynt, then met up with the less-rested remainder of the group in Delores Park. Everywhere, people were chilling/partying in the sun, hoisting bottles, making out, drum circling, as that good Cali hung unmistakably in the air. A lady with a dread came up selling treats. There was excitement. A graphic design major (don't have enough of those) from Olympia was promising to get all her friends to come to the Oly date. Word. New and old friends were laid out, blinking up at all the unbroken blue.
We had to get on the road though. There was whining from that member of our group who now has a tumblr devoted to his trademark intoxicated ridiculousness (of which I've now seen epic examples of. "Now get in the fucking van," I quoted for the tenth time this trip; it's a snippet of Jeff Goldblum dialogue from Deep Cover that's in a great De La song.
Crossing the bridge as the sun and the water were freaking each other off fantastically, iPhone selecta yours truly threw this on, one of my very favorite Womack tracks. I love when he starts involving the "little engineer" in the song on the third verse, or just starts talking about whatever like he always does. It was a hit in this van. A night off in beautiful Winnamucca, NV awaits us; tomorrow, a show in that very sexy and tolerant city of Boise, ID. Later.