Death Cab for Cutie

so we made it to Santa Cruz and back in less than 24 hours. we didn’t sleep. motels rooms at 1:30 in the morning seem to cost absurdly more than daytime rates. so we decided to head home. i wish i could have had a love affair with the city but alas we had to depart. another time, my dear Santa Cruz.

the Catalyst is a pretty neat venue. although the sound was a bit off. it was located in downtown Santa Cruz. typical college area. we had this really yummy thai food across the street. and we ate way too much. i did enjoy “Death Cab’s” performance, but no thanks to the mouth breather who was standing directly behind me breathing down my neck, literally. learn to breathe through your nostrils dammit. at one point i felt like a fainting spell was on its way. so, i had to remove myself from the crowd and the noise. i think i’ve pinpointed the cause of my vasovagal syncope. sensory overload. tightly packed venues that overdo it on the heart-thumping bass. note to self: don’t stand in front of the bass amp.

in less than 24 hours we had come up with numerous names for our pseudo band – “mariposas reina” for one, eyeballed a giant artichoke and imagined the many ways to consume it, gotten lost in the sketchy drug dealing part of a sketchy ass town, challenged to race by a white pickup full of Eminem clones, witnessed an alien invasion and abduction of the dumbasses of the world, enjoyed an elephant parade, passed by the John Steinbeck Center in Salinas, played on the jungle gym, peed in 5 different cities across California, planted orange trees, experienced this ultra spooky phenomenon called FOG, trembled with fear because of a scary, desolate, haunted-looking house illuminated by flashlight-below-the-chin-effect lights on the side of the empty road and then contemplated on how odd it was, talked about lost love, unrequited love, cheap love, imagined love, hopeful love, convenient love, all of the above. but best of all, new memories, new writing material, new aspects, and new perspectives were created.

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