well, after that wacky night of rock and roll (and those hefty Carl’s Jr. Cheeseburgers just before bed…) i rolled out of bed after getting texted that Keith and Margret-Anne were ready to get breakfast. So we all went to the mason cafe and enjoyed a nice breakfast. the waitress there is like wired on somehting, i just don’t know what. she’s trying to get you outta there as soon as possible. after that, the Stodarts went shopping and stuff and i went to an interenet cafe and walked around some. we met up again around noon (after i checked out of my hotel) and then decided to walk to PACK BELL PARK, where the SF Giants play baseball. so we started walking but THEN we found a nice Irish pub. I convinced Mrs. S that it would only be 1 pint and then we’d carry on with our travels. But a funny thing happened…the first pint tasted funny. it was a Carlsberg import (she mistakingly referred to it as an “export” but i had to correct her…I WISH it were an export …but it wasn’t)…then it tasted even funnier. it tasted like…..soap! so i sent the glass back and got another…but this time i got a different beer, the Red Tail. See, all those years of drinking at Spaceland turned me into a bona fide Red Tail appreciater. So we finished a couple of rounds and then i realised the time. i had to hop a shuttle to the Bart station in Oakland. So we said our goodbyes and Mr and Mrs Stodart carried on towards Mc Covey Cove and i headed back to the hotel to get my bags (i’d left them at the front desk.) got my bags and hopped BART and got off (15 min later) at Oakland Stadium (where the Raiders play) and who do i bump into at the Bart station but none other than (Brian Jonestown Massacre’s lead guitarist) Ricky! Ricky also plays in a great band called MELLOW DRUNK that’s on Ochre records, the label THIS DIARIST is signed to as well. so we chatted and talked about the show and how fun/funny it was. he was catching a southwest flight to LAX and then United to Sidney, as the BJM are touring Australia next week. I was catching Jet Blue to Long Beach. so, once at the airport, i wished him well and picked up a chicken burrito at some eatery in the airport and waited for my flight to board. after we were seated i dozed off and when i woke up, we were landing in Long beach. my flight left about 5:30 and we landed about 6:15. since i didn’t have any bags checked i walked right out and hopped a shuttle to my car, hopped on the 405 freeway and (believe it or not, there was NO traffic) headed north to the Marina freeway, west. Got off at lincoln and headed north again. got a text from Alia : Mike, when are you home? I texted her back: Alia, home soon. why, you throwing me a party? got home about 8pm and noticed the light was on in the bathroom so i figured it was Alia. I asked her if she was going down to the tavern but i guess she didn’t hear me. so i brought my things in and started a load of laundry. came back in and there was a text from Alia again: Mike, you coming down to the bar? and i thought, wait, isn’t she in the toilet? but she wasnt! i was talking to myself i guess. oh well. i texed back that i was gonna shower and then be down there in 15 minutes. and i did just that. and when i walked in Aiden had a pint of Hefe waiting for me. And, well, those types of times are priceless. good beer. good friends. it’s nice, after a long tour and total chaos and turmoil in my life, to have people still be your friends. I saw Alia and we laughed about me thinking she was in the bathroom! I asked where Rusty was. I looked down at my phone but then realized i’d left it in the car. Aiden said, “This is my party and Rusty’s not invited.” Now, by “her party” she meant her area of the bar. that’s AIDEN’S PARTY. you have to experience it to know what i mean. but she’s a heckuva bartender. and takes no sh*t either. and there always seems to be one or two drunk idiots everynight. but it’s nothing her and Alia can’t handle. so, whilst nursing pint number two, in walks Mr. Squeezebox. Aiden immediately requests an apology for him missing her “party”. he doesn’t even ask any questions. when a woman says your guilty it’s best to not get her riled up. just admit you’re wrong and get a pint like the rest of us. and then some regulars came in, about 3 of them named Mike but see, Aiden and Alia call me “Mikey.” Always have, always will. And so that’s some of the things that went through my mind as i ordered my 4th pint. i also knew i had to practice some more for the Spoilers show at the Bitter Redhead tuesday night. and i had to finish some song ideas. it was a lot to think about. a blonde came in with obvious fake boobs. I said to Rusty, “man, her doctor got a little TOO optomistic, ya think?” Rusty agreed. but it was mainstreet. and if you ever really want to know how main street feels, listen to a song on Rusty’s solo album called, “PARALLEL” it says it all. “all the pretty girls in town never seem to go out of style.” but, as the song continues to claim, they DO wage their wars too close to the shore. and are twisted lives DO run parallel. and on that note i went home and played the guitar before retiring for the night. just. like. that.

Mike Randle