The venue we played in Seattle was right next to the space needle, so I had to take a stroll. You shoulda seen those elevators. They glide up and down so smooth and silent. The shaft is lined with circles of light, and as the elevator slowly proceeds, one dot becomes concealed and another dot becomes revealed. Soothing, serene space needle of Seattle.
Leslie from friends got a homemade haircut from Samantha. Looks so cool on stage now, I can hardly stand it. Skinny stemmy girl dressed in white. Androgynous, sunglasses, high heels. Lou Reed cool.
Now we’re at Holocene in Portland. I drove the van over the bridge a couple miles north of Portland. The last time I had traversed the route was with Calvin Johnson. He taught the van a tradition of his friend where whenever you cross the bridge, you chant, “Portland, the city of rock. Portland, in case you forgot.” So I chanted.
Darwin and I went to this Lebanese restaurant a few streets down from the venue. We ordered a dish with eggplant that they marinate and deep fry. It sounded good on paper, but in execution, it was ridiculous. An olive oil sponge, oozing with olive oil, topped with tahini sauce. Darwin was overwhelmed. All he could say was “sick.” As we walked away from the restaurant, he analyzed, “The grossest part about it is, the way that it tasted…you know that that’s exactly how your farts are going to smell.”