I made it to San Diego, thanks to those who convinced me I don’t always have to do something with someone else. The drive there and back sucked donkey ass but the music alone was worth the I-5 traffic and constant blinking to keep the eyes lubed. Of course, I saw Darren and had a few moments to catch up, but not a whole lot to talk about. Still easy on the eyes as before, wearing a hat and an addictive grin.

I was thinking…how he’s still surrounded by his music as I’m engulfed in my art, even though it’s a different medium than in high school. Apparently there’s no fighting what’s in your bones, what passion resides within.

My camera was on the wrong setting and this is about all I could get from the ones I took, sorry no full shots. I had to get creative in Photoshop to get this visible as it is. Picture is of Darren wearing his hat sideways for the last song performed, “Country Ditty”.

Back to the band, The Bradbury Press. If you’re in San Diego, I highly recommend you catch them at the Canes bar tomorrow night, or in Long Beach…Oregon…anywhere along the rest of their West Coast tour as they completely rock. Most bands don’t quite carry the same sound as you hear on their albums, tweaked and mutilated to appease the radio wave masses. Definitely not of the norm, these guys not only sound like their recorded selves, but even better if possible. They performed a variety of songs from both their albums plus a couple of covers (Daughter & The Joker, wonderful choices and well executed). I was reminded of my other favorite group, Collective Soul, the only other performance I’ve been to that exceeded my expectations.

I mentioned I might catch them in Bakersfield on Wednesday but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to. Damn trip took a half tank of gas and mulah is a bit limited. If things look well, I just might, though. A bit of a drive, but when I have nothing else pressing to do besides enjoy a Wednesday night without Ashleigh, it’s always a possibility.

On a slightly to the side note yet sorta related, I saw an actual jackass (as apposed to the figurative one). Ya know, a good ole donkey. I had just dropped Ash off and on my way to the freeway there was this kid further down the road trying to budge a donkey and getting nowhere. It is possible such a thing is a normal occurrence for others, but the only thing on my mind was Donilyn and I driving around the University District with the red devil mask screaming “Jackass!!!” (mind you we were pissed when that damn show came out because it cheapened the word). Not quite a National Geographic photo opportunity but would’ve been a snap loaded with memories if I’d remembered I had my damn camera sitting on the seat next to me.

I am now itching’ to get back to a club, bar, something. Not as often like pre-Ash, but more often than the current “once every six months”! I enjoyed the music, my time away from the daily chaos, a few drinks, and the San Diego air. I really should get out more often.

Now excuse me, my damn jaw hurts, time to go to sleep and wake up with the birds and toddler at 7 no matter the Sunday designation.

The jaw hurts from smiling for three hours, people, smiling. Sheesh.