Around 4:30 pm Tuesday I hopped the 304 bus down Santa Monica blvd. to 4th street. Actually, 5th street, cause the bus turns there. I walked up a block to ‘Hide Ho comics’ for a few minutes and then walked to where the bus transfers, as I was heading to Rusty’s house. But then I got thirsty and wouldn’t you know it but there’s a HOOTERS on 3rd and Santa Monica Blvd, across from tower records. So I went in and watched the Yankees against the lions (it was 2-2 in the 5th) and after 8 innings and 3 pints it was still tied 2-2. I walked up to TRUTONE music where Dave Jenkins sold guitars. Called Rusty’s cell and he was gonna come by anyways so I just hung out at Trutone and looked at all the nice guitars and cool pedals.

Rusty arrived about half seven and then we went to the Bitter Redhead where he was playing drums with the SPOILERS that night. I helped bring in the drums and then bought a pint of STONE pale ale (my friend, Steve Wagner, is the co-owner of STONE so it was kinda in his honor that I ordered it) and proceeded to get the stuffings cheated out of me playing Galaga. I mean how in the fek is anyone supposed to score more than 100,000 points with a game as jippy as that? I refused to play my free second game. I’d had enough and went over and talked to Spoilers’ guitarists, Brook and Sam. Dave Jenkins was still at the shop so those guys were waiting for him to make sound check.

We all kicked back and had some more pints. Then we turned out attention to the Dodgers, who were pitching a kid who had just got called up from double ‘A’ ball to picth against RANDY JOHNSON. The kid’s name was Edwin Jackson (I think) and he WORKED RANDY JOHNSON, winning 4-1, throwing a 4 hitter in the process. Now remember; I said the kid (20 years old) pitched his VERY FIRST MAJOR LEAGUE game against A FUTURE HALL OF FAMER (not to mention one of THE most feared pitchers in baseball) and kicked his ass. That’s like losing your virginity to Penelope Cruz AND giving her 12 orgasms. You have a better chance of becoming president of yemen.

So we all were feeling good knowing the kid got such an important win. And after dave arrived and they sound checked the time hit 9:30. Just as they were about to play more people came in. I saw an old friend, Andy Bluestein (aka, ‘money B’), playing pool in the corner. I was on my 6th pint and the show hadn’t even started. I think I insulted his friend. Sorry bout that. (the argue ment went like this; his friend asked me to give him 1 reason Bush would not be re-elected. I said, ’cause he’s stupid.’ Then I felt bad for stupid people everywhere, being unfairy lumped in with dubya…) then I was kicking it with Brook and he was eating a taco and then he said, ‘there’s Monica Lewinsky.’ I looked at the woman and she LOOKED like her but I wasn’t sold and didn’t really think much about it.

So the show went on and they did 2 sets and by 1am the show was almost over. I was talking to the Wilco bassist (who jumped on stage with them for one song and sang back-ups) for a bit…really nice guy…forgetting his name right now…and then I found myself at the same table as Monica. THE Monica. She was drinking white wine (that’s SO brentwood) and I was on, like, my 10th pint. She was digging the tunes and was mimmicking Rusty’s drumming. We both acknowledged the good music and how much fun the band was and gave them a toast, pint glass to wine glass. She seemed very friendly and, I dunno, just a nice person. A nice jewish girl who’s personal life got blown out of proportion. by 1:30 am Monica was heading out the door after saying bye to the guys in the band.

By 2am rusty and I were at TOMMY’S. I was starved. Rusty wanted no part of the chili-cheese burger I would later wolf down at his house. It was now about 2:30am and I was going to sleep on his couch that night, Like I’d done more times than I could remember. There were a few books I liked to read. Richard Feynman’s THE PLEASURE OF FINDING THINGS OUT. Charles Bukowski’s THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD. By 3am I was out like a light. And by 8am I was up again, reading some issue of Scientific American, nursing a slight hangover. I had my head down when a voice said, ‘Rusty, you want a cup of coffee. Did you dye your hair?’ I looked up. It was rusty’s house-mate, Kate. She laughed when she realized it was me. I said a cup of coffee would be great. A little later, Rusty and I went for breakfast at JOE’S MAINSTRET DINER. It was 10am and it was a bit cloudy outside. But you could smell the ocean. I picked up a menu then put it back down. I didn’t need no stinkin’ menu. I had the heuvos rancheros cause I ALWAYS have the heuvos rancheros. It was damn good.

Mike Randle