Going Places, Going Crazy

Woke up this morning, drank what seemed to be a gallon of water, found 15 one-dollar bills in my backpack, and discovered the people I was chatting with last night still haven't woken up. It's 10am.

So far on this trip, I discovered Yan still believes in a fairy tale wedding, Cole's obsession with death has lead to a life I admire, Jeb has an uncanny glow of victory, defeat, and perserverance all at the same time, and Claudia could be my long lost sister... or wife in a past life. Wife could be pushing it, but I'll take it there for now. It's been 24 hours since I landed in San Francisco, and I already feel grounded. A man burst into the coffeeshop last night screaming "YOUR BURRITOS SUCK!!! YOUR BURRITOS ARE HORRIBLE!!!.... THEY TASTE LIKE COFFEE!!!". He then paused, grinned, and said in a soft tone, "Is Joe here?... Joe... no. Oh, Ok... YOUR BURRITOS TASTE LIKE COFFEE!!!". After he left, the barista looked over at me and said, "He does that every night".

Being openly crazy is openly common in San Francisco. I watched a guy spin in circles on a corner in Castro for 30 seconds. Just when you thought he was going to cross the street, he'd back pedal to the Harvey Milk Plaza, come out and start spinning again... absolutely out of his mind, and loving it. Stars, schedules, streets, and anything else that could derail super-villainous plans have somehow aligned. Dropped into LA, met with Ben, kicked it in the shitty suburb of Studio City. Woke up the next morning to be picked up by Claudia, drove to Silver Lake, spotted the dude from Crash and Observe & Report at a coffeeshop, drove off in a Porsche with Andrew to Sunset Strip, and boom... there I was discussing the next year of my life in music in California. As much as I love Minneapolis, moving to LA is inevitable. If I could make it all happen in Minnesota, I would. As much as I complain the winter to death, and the passive aggression seeping into my veins, I absolutely love Minneapolis, and leaving it makes me appreciate it more. However, I will say San Francisco rivals the hometown. Nothing like a city in eternal autumn weather, rain that mists softly through the air, and a f'ng beautiful view wherever you go.

Speaking more on Minneapolis, music, and California, my plan is to make it in music, raise a family, and be a kickass grandfather. Haha, easy, right? Maybe I die before any of it happens, but I'll go out on the way there at least. Kurt Cobain said it's better to burn out than to fade away... in his suicide letter. In reading it, Ms. Love responded quickly on a tangent, "And that's a load of bullshit". Either way, comiserating over fish tacos on Sunset Strip with Andrew made me realize how much is on me to finish this album, this mixtape, and how important the next year of my life is. I blew 24, 25, 26 away touring with a band across the country, paying rent for apartments I rarely slept in, and jumping summer job to summer job... and loved every moment of it;) I guess this year is only as important as I make it, but I'd hate to blow all these opportunities on worry, neglect, or good ol' laziness.

Meeting with six-digit incomes, scholars, virtually homeless, models, actors, musicians, and the ever familiar struggling artist, I've had the kickass pleasure of hanging out with peers across the scale, and also noticing a commonality between each of them: moving forward. I realize my best friends are forward thinking, ambitious, crazy-about-life folks. They leave the past in the past, revel in the moment, and meticulously plot the future like comic books ending with "to be continued" (a mandatory law of all comic books). We never settle, juggle sometimes too much, push time to its limitations, and have an appetite to rival self-destruction. Don't know where I'm going with this, to be quite honest, but perhaps it falls into the category of going "openly crazy" in San Francisco, or better yet, walking circles on a street corner.

Sidenote: If you're ever in SF, visit Four Barrell Coffee. This guy with shoulder length hair makes mochas like a f'ng gangsta. He take about 4 to 5 minutes to craft the cup, but hot damn, that shit is made with love. Best coffee of the trip goes to dude with the hair at Four Barrell Coffee.