just gotta let it all go.


i decided the night before that i was gonna drive to l.a. by myself and see the jezabels two nights in a row. my only l.a. friend was having a bachelorette party, so staying with her was out of the question. i booked a hostel. i'd stayed in one before, but it was in a private room. i remembered it being full of young international kids looking to party. just what i needed. and at twenty dollars a night, how could you argue with that? i bought the concert tickets, made the hostel reservations, and i was on my way. my dad was worried about the car breaking down. he offered to pay for a rental, but i said that was a stupid waste of money. so i drove the newer of the two cars my parents own, a honda crv.

my mom packed me two oranges, two bananas, two hard-boiled eggs, and a package of cookies. i filled up on gas - $30 something dollars for a little over half a tank - and i hit the road. why don't i do this more often? i've driven solo once from seattle to sac, and taken multiple solo drives from watsonville to sac, but that was about it. i had a car, but i didn't drive it. i had money, but i didn't spend it. i was raised to live carefully, to not make a lot of noise, to keep to myself, to avoid confrontation. no one ever told me to go big or go home. no one ever told me to go at it hard. this accounts for the lack of trips i've taken.

it was a beautiful day on i-5. splotches of clouds and green hills, shit looked like screensavers. i thought about stopping to take pictures, but then i thought, what for? can't i just have something for myself in my mind? pictures don't mean anything anymore. they're just a means of making your friends jealous on social networks. i didn't have tapes or cds, so i listened to the radio. i heard pink a lot, and bruno mars, and the far east movement. i sang out loud to "just the way you are." this is the kind of thing people without life plans did.

i got to my west hollywood hostel around 4 p.m. and checked in. this asian chick showed me my room, and my two roommates - two kids from florida on spring break - said wassup. they were job-hunting, looking to have a good time. i said we should get some beers later. they said, yeah cool. why the fuck didn't i do this in college? what the hell did i do on spring break but come home and watch tv? i'm making up for so much lost time, living life backwards. i drove out to silver lake and ate thai food: pad thai, a thai iced tea, and spring rolls.

waiting for the show, i sat in my car and played skee-ball on my iphone. i learned the trick was to roll as many balls as possible really quickly. after an hour or so of that, i stood in line in front of the satellite, where the jezabels would be playing. this woman asked me, what band are you here to see? the jezabels, i said. i told her i found their music because of a bmx video on youtube. and they were amazing enough for me to drive seven hours to see them. twice. she introduced me to the drummer, nick. we shook hands, and he said we should get a beer after the show. we didn't.

they were amazing.

i didn't bother sticking around for the two other bands because i didn't give enough of a shit about them. i got back to the hostel, and my florida roommates were about to smoke some dope. there was a girl with them, too. the girl looked worried, like i was gonna narc on them or something. don't worry, the boy told her, he's from sacramento. the four of us smoked dope outside, talked march madness, talked college, talked about places we've been, places we've seen. and then i said goodnight and never saw any of them ever again.

i picked up mary from l.a.x. we went to umami, amoeba, and hotel cafe, where the jezabels played again. i met mary's friend, heather, and then i met up with pete. the four of us drank and played shuffleboard. i hadn't seen pete in eight years. the last time i saw him was at a hella show, and i didn't want to talk to him. there was no reason not to talk to him. i just didn't. and then when i saw him this time, we just started talking like no time had passed. he went on tour with afi, and his dad has parkinson's. back in the day, he was my buddy, and i just let that shit fall apart. i don't know what's wrong with me, what's wrong with people. why we do these things to each other.

2 comments:

Inspector Clouseau said...

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reta said...

About Asia
nice