DIARY ENTRY, San Francisco, 8/19/04
On the Hotel Utah, new music, and Mexican food worth risking your life for:

I am loving it in San Francisco.

Last night Bob and I did our thing at the esteemed Hotel Utah, a really cool, smallish venue full of dark wood paneling and booths that just seem to breathe SF history.

Diva that I am, I always feel uncomfortable sitting down and playing unless the chair/stool is just the right height, and both here and in LA at Genghis the chairs were too low, but it wasn't like that could make or break the performances. I just enjoy having a public forum for bitching. Anyway, this show felt a little more cozy and intimate than the one in LA, I think just because the venue has that sort of vibe what with its crescent-shaped stage and its sepia-colored lighting and the proximity of the audience. The show was full of surprises--two friends from New York just happened to be passing through and showed up unexpectedly, which was awesome. One of them, Susan, brought along her video camera and taped the whole thing, and I'm psyched to get a look at that. There were lights a-flashing all over the place, so I hope we got some good photos of this one. Bob's daughter was also in attendance, and she fell asleep at some point, and was still out when we were done. We've decided that my music is the perfect antidote for children with sleeping problems--so everyone with a restless kid should call me, I guess.

I can't wait to really record some of the newer material. There's volumes more in the works, but people have really been responding to the new stuff we've played, it seems, maybe because it's a bit poppier than a lot of what's on To the Quick. I don't know. I just go where it all takes me. "Bitter Pill," "Siren Song," and that old nugget "Broken" have all been getting lots of praise. People have been snatching up CDs, which is a good thing. The guy playing after me, Nick Castro (from LA), and his girlfriend/manager were kind enough to make space at their merch table for my discs and put up a little sign for me. Very cool. And my friend Corey was sweet enough to lend Bob her bass and amp--a nice-sounding rig, I must say. I love how things all come together like that.
As usual, I didn't eat much before the show, and drank way too much afterward. I spent a good amount of time drinking pints of Guinness (and a few Jameson's thrown in, I think) with my friend Paul--the other New York surprise--and an old friend of his, Caroll Glenn, who's a local SF singer/songwriter.

Besotted and starved, I got my dear pal Scott to drive me to a Mexican joint in the Mission that would be open at the ungodly (for SF) hour of 1:30AM, which happened to be in what I started referring to as "crackland." As I waited on my burrito, lots of rough characters barked out their orders, while junkies fidgeted and some dug their hands into the tub of free tortilla chips that were offered. Hungry as I may have been, I wasn't touching that. I really cannot do justice to the scene before me. With my long hair and velvet coat, I was sure someone was going to give me a hard time, but thankfully, all was cool. Scott had to circle around in his car so that people would leave him alone while he was waiting for me. Bless him. I have to say, that burrito was SO worth it. Not just because I was drunk, but because it was the best fucking burrito I have ever had in my life. It literally made me drool. And, again, not because I was drunk. They don't have Mexican like this in New York. I plan to get my fill of it while I'm here. I may even leave some clothes behind and fill my bags with Mexican food to bring back with me.

So I'm supposed to head back down to LA to get in some beach time and catch up with some people I missed last week, but I don't know that I'll go. I still don't feel like driving, and it's infinitely more manageable up here without a car, so I may just stay on and continue to explore the city. We shall see.