It looks like I missed the rumored special appearance by the supremely lovely Neko Case at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass last weekend. Look at this!













Why didn't I see Neko? I avoided the event crowds in Golden Gate Park's polo fields this last weekend. Why? Thing is, I saw most of the folks who played this year's festival last year, and while sitting under the sun with BBQ and beer through a weekend of free honky-tonk I saw last year and such sounded just fine, the insanity of getting home did not. Last year, after being passed up by two buses at the bus stop because they were too full, Trevor and I walked over three miles through das ghetto to BART to get home.

Alright, so that was fun too. I guess I'm just bitter for missing out and looking for an excuse. Aha! I would have never known on which stage she was playing and at what time! Okay, that's better.

But nevermind spilt milk. Good things are afoot this weekend!

Friday is Guitar Player Magazine's Guitar Hero Competition at the Great American Music Hall. Looks to be a fun show at a beautiful venue (one of my favorites), but it also looks like I can watch it as a webcast for free. Next...

Saturday my very own private ninja will be taking in a seminar in Sacramento led by Shihan Luke Molitor. Meanwhile, I will be shopping the legendary thrift stores of Cali's capital and drinking strip-mall coffee. After the ninjaing and scoring of righteous deals on fabulous finds is through, we will most likely take in a pint or two and something delicious in nearby Davis with our good friend James, who is driving down from our college town of yore, Chico. Yee-haw!

Sunday, Japanese dark and drone trio Boris will be playing a free show at two o'clock at Amoeba Records in San Francisco, but I'll be catching them at The Independent that evening at eight. Bay Bridge retrofit be damned -- this one is worth the crawl home when the powers that be close the majority of the Eastbound onramps 'til six in the morning.

Twenty-four hours.

8:00 pm, Thursday: Rasputina at the Great American Music Hall. Cellos like electric guitars crossed with Ye Olde World, and 'Barracuda' t'boot. Fantastic.



11:30 pm: Fully invested in my favorite macaroni and cheese and spinach salad at Sparky's with my sweetie-pie in the Castro.

Post-macaroni and cheese 'til 2 am: Eleven miles to sweet Oakland becomes a highway from hell because of the Bay Bridge earthquake retrofit. Read: five lanes smooshed into one. I sulk in the passenger seat and hate everyone, especially the Seismic Safety Project.

4:30 am: I wake up to rumbling and my bed jerking violently. It's a 4.2 earthquake in Oakland. Point taken.

11:30 am: Roll out of bed for haircut at noon. Eat dirt crack, a handful of perfect California blueberries, and a succulent backyard peach to make me happy.

12 noon: Haircut. Attempt to talk Korean politics with hairdresser. Smacked down with talk of the perils of getting coffee in South Korea instead.

1:00 pm: I drink coffee for the second time in 4 years.

5:00 pm: Eat Vietnamese pork goodness. Get sleepy. Try to sleep on couch while hubby rebags hundreds of comic books we finally took out of storage. Fail.

7:00 to 8:00 pm: Take a walk. Peaches and Cream. Lemon. Vanilla. Noyaux. Better.

And now: I suppose it's all well and good now that Bernard has made them a joke, but one still has to say WTF?! No way.

Twenty-Four Hours.