Here's the latest:

I ran out last night, late, to meet a friend and check out this new band she signed who was showcasing downtown. Typically, I ran so late that I missed their performance. I ended up tripping over my own two feet, flying into the small venue and right into the band who were hundled around my friend.

This band, was adorable. I met them, they were all of 18, and hugging and kissing me. A bunch of sweet, punk 18-year-old boys from the south. Piercings galore yet sweet as pie. It threw me.

My friend opens some prescription bottle and starts passing out pills like candy. One of the kids took like 10 of them, I think he was saving some for later. Whatever, they put their hands out to receive, so I did too. My friend laughed and said, "of course you want some." I threw two back as one of the kids stared at me and croaked, "I need water."

After I tossed a couple down, I heard someone say they were soma's or seconals or something, who knows.

So I downed my beer and headed out of the venue. I split from my friend and backtracked to the direction I came from, because I had passed something curious on my way downtown and I had to investigate.

I passed a pickup truck and horse trailer, custom-painted with the logo and likeness of Bubba Mac. Bubba is a man, with a band and a huge restuarant bar at the shore where I grew up. We go there every weekend night to see our favorite dead cover band and spend time with all of the old surfer crowd and deadhead crowd we've known since we were kids. Good Times.

Bubba looks like Jerry Garcia, so you wouldn't miss him. He rocks. And he plays some mean blues.

So here I am, alone because I thought I was just meeting my friend for 1 drink and heading home. Didn't want to deal with a crowd.

I found myself retracing my steps, looking around at the streets, pleasantly buzzed. Whatever I took started to kick in and I started to feel relaxed for the first time in days.

I found the truck, and I stopped on Second Avenue to listen for the sweet sound of Blues. I found it. I walked into this DELUXE lounge, with all of about 8 people in it and my man Bubba setting up for the gig. I couldn't believe it. It was so totally bizarre to be standing their staring at him here, on my turf.

I wondered if he recognized me and then thought, probably not. I've only met him once and I was blonde then...

I took a stool at the bar and ordered a drink. I thought about how much I wished my friends were with me. It's not the same, seeing someone that's so much a part of another part of my life - without those people.

I asked the bartender if they had a payphone and I followed her finger when she pointed to the back. I think I called my brother collect at least 5 times, and called my other friends 3 or 4 times. No one was home.

I went back to my stool and drank and smoked and smiled and thought about summer and being back at the beach.

I finally got my brother and I held up the phone so he could hear Bubba. He couldn't believe it. Happy, that I got the reaction I wanted, I went back to my stool alone.

Bubba told the crowd about where he's from and I couldn't help myself, so I shouted out - I've been there! He suddenly looked up at me, thrown from his rehearsed gig banter, and his eyes found me right in front of him. He kinda squinted, like Jerry, and then a slow smile spread across his face, from underneath that bushy white beard, and he sad, "Well, alllllright."

And so it went. And he sang about love that's come and gone, and new love and young love and the love you experience when you find that companion for life and he made me nostalgic for love if that's possible? I tried to think back about the last time I was in love, but I couldn't really remember, but I found myself wishing I were in love now. Or in like. or with someone at that very moment.

When his set was over I drifted to him, and he was expecting me. "So you've been to the club? You look familiar," he said. "No, I don't," I teased, "but I am a regular." And we talked.

He was so easy to talk to and we spoke of the music business, then and now. Touring, venues, recording. New Orleans, where he had an office and I've never been. Austin, where he lived for a few years and I recently fell in love with the town. San Francisco, which we both loved, but sadly agreed has changed.

Before I knew it, it was after 11PM and I needed to get myself home. I waved good-bye as they slid into a new original and mouthed a promise to come to his gig next week, which is up near my apartment.

I got home, and tried to drunk dial someone who doesn't like me anymore, presumably to beg forgiveness. For the second time this week, my roommate was on the line for a length of time and I fell asleep before I could humilate myself with the drunk and drugged dial.

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