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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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How dare you try to out-indie, out-cool, out-SF me?

The rock and roll party never stops around here.

Wednesday night I went to Spaceland for a cd/cookbook party. It was free, there was free food, and I stood inches away from Beck. At least, it looked a hell of a lot like Beck, only much, much taller than what Iíve been told to expect. What I mean is that everyone I know whoís seen him close up has SWORN that he is no taller than 5í5, but this Beck doppelganger was at least 5í9. Anyway, he was standing around, chatting with Jon Brion, and people kept taking pictures of them. Iíve told this story to two other people, and one person agrees that it could have been Beck, the other swears that it must have been someone else because the Actual Beck is teenie tiny.

Anyway, the show itself was fun because a bunch of different people played (the musicians who contributed to the cd/cookbook,) so I saw From Bubblegum To Sky, d jMe dj You, Anubian Lights and The Ray Makers. I danced about as much as I could considering I was saddled with a big bag and there was no place to stow it safely. I bought a cd, got another one free and tons of buttons for ye olde new wave jacket.

Last night, Terence and I met our friend Ned for drinks at Maxís, which is a small bar around the corner from our place. It wasnít too bad, except that I inadvertently alienated all three of Nedís new friends. I donít know what kind of mood I was in, but I went off on bread in Los Angeles--they all agreed that it was shite, but somehow my comments were more vehement because I insulted La Brea bakery which is apparently untouchable in the criticism department. I donít care if itís been named the Best Bread in LA by a million different folks; if you canít take 4 basic ingredients and turn them into edible bread, then who the hell cares what you can do with 4 basic ingredients plus chocolate and cherries? Or rosemary and olives? Then they asked me what I thought of Los Angeles (this will henceforth be known as Fatal Mistake Number Two,) and the only thing I could think of to say was that it was kind of weird for me because it is such an American city. I think I said something like, ďIt just doesnít feel very cosmopolitan to me. I guess Iím just used to living in places that feel more international.Ē So itís safe to say that I now officially donít know three people in Los Angeles. I did say that I was appreciating Los Angeles as one does a foreign culture, but that was just another one of my misfires.

So these new anti-friends used to live in San Francisco and were going on about how they are having trouble transitioning from there to Los Angeles, and are very slowly moving their belongings from one place to the next. If they could be typed, I would say that they are the kinds of people who believe their SF residency endows them with automatic indie/creative cred. And of course, I hate that! They were going on and on about meeting at the ĎGeist (some new (?) diminutive for the bar known as Zeitgeist...) At that point in the discussion, I was debating whether or not to mentally check out, and the ĎGeist comment just set me over the edge. I will grant you that Zeitgeist is sometimes fun on sunny days when you can hang out at the picnic tables in the back, but most of the time it is what it is: a small bar with an ugly, dirt patch behind it. Itís a place for beer-drinkers, bikers and the girls who fuck them. But maybe, everyone needs their Cheers.

9:34 a.m. - 2002-04-26

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