First of all I would like to personally thank Sobe for bringing back the Oolong Tea. This post could not have been written without its Ginseng, Ginkgo, Guarana, and 60 grams of High Fructose Corn Syrup. What else does Oolong tea have you ask: Polyphenols which kill “Free Radicals” - and the Fujian provincial government, which sponsors the website, tells me that these Free Radical anarchist bastards are “a serious enemy to health and beauty.” But thanks to Sobe and their reintroduction of Oolong tea into the convienant store American consumerist market, I don’t have to worry about this onslaught against my health and beauty, ’cause let’s face it, thirty years from now I will probably be dating your daughters and polyphenols are only gonna make it all the easier.

Who’s this guy? He’s the one who makes sure that all the dirt gets shaken out of my oolong tea leaves. And this post is also dedicated to him. If he lived down the street from me I would tip him a dollar every time he poured a little hot water over these leaves. But instead he lives in the Fujian region of China and gets paid about two dollars a day and is not allowed to have more than two children. If you’re reading this my friend, send my your address, ’cause this tea is fucking delicious and I’d happily send you your back-tips over the past few years.

Where’s Abogado you ask. You want to hear what he has to say about orientation week at Georgetown. And so do I, but our friend is having some technical difficulties. Why is he having technical difficulties? ‘Cause the bastard still used Internet Explorer. I mean, we’ve talked about this before right? But does obstinate Abogado listen to our wisdom? No, no, no - which is why I feel so compelled to put this picture up. You try and distinguish who’s the monkey and who’s abogado.

Well, Dave, Carter, and I just got out of the water. We did our own little mini biathalon, running over to La Jolla Cove and then swimming the mile back. In case you couldn’t figure it out, the red is where we ran and the yellow was our swim. It felt so good to be out in the water - especially after going for that run - but I was definitely hurting by the end of the swim. Right when I got to the school of leopard sharks. This picture is from a German tourist who put it up on his blog when I assume he was visiting the area. Another great - and underwater - picture of the sharks can be found here. According to this article the number of leopard sharks that visit La Jolla Shores is increasing each year.

So Friday was Street Scene downtown; the first night of a two day concert headlined by … just too many good bands to list. This year marked the 20th anniversary as well as the first time Street Scene was all ages both days and over in the “East Village” (which was never called the East Village until a couple years ago) where the city is engaging in a major redevelopment effort around the new ballpark and soon to be built library. (unless the Chargers have their way again and get a fourth stadium built - twice as many stadiums as professional teams - diverting the money)

Friday morning I had to work a brutal 6 am to 2 pm opening shift and then around 4 I headed down to Pacific Beach to meet up with Raman and Eli and Eli’s dad Glen. Using a trick I learned while taking classes in Barbados (where, never wanting the party to end, we would take our afternoon apertifs into class with us), Raman and I bought some Rum and six 750 ml plastic bottles of Coke to mix and bring on the bus with us.

Lack of parking, not environmental concern, is the only way to get San Diegans on public transportation around here. So the bus was pretty crowded and there was a positive energy as strangers were rappin with strangers about which bands to see and how downtown has changed so much over the past few years. (more on this later) Glen, the ever model father, was having to deflect the flirting of the old blonde sitting next to him. Eli and I were trying to give his dad a tough time, but we both knew deep down that he’s got more game than both of us put together.

Bus stops at 4th and Broadway and I couldn’t believe how dead it was. But I had forgotten the show wasn’t in Gaslamp this year so we still had a good dozen blocks to walk. Which was probably a good thing - to walk off some of those bottles of coke. Ran into some yuppie restaurant to take a piss with everyone looking at us like we’re vagabundos and us rappin with the Brazilian hostess just to piss of management even more.

Dudes at the gate scan the flimsy paper I printed out that supposedly now pass for tickets. How Ticketmaster still charges $4 for me to print out my own ticket that is covered with full color ads using up all my printer ink is outrageous. There has got to be better web-based ticketing services out there and I sure as hell hope that the Street Scene people use them next year.

Black Eyed Peas are already on stage doing their positive hip-hop thing, telling us to love each other and to vote and closed the set with a hip-hop rendition of kumbaya with everyone in the audience holding hands and swaying back and forth. Ok, not really, but it didn’t feel so far off. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, enjoying the warm night, enjoying the music.

That, however, wasn’t the case where AFI was playing. More than a dozen people were sent out on stretchers to the hospital after things got out of hand in the mosh pit. A couple friends who were over there said that it was absolutely out of control - in a very bad and violent way. Supposedly the lead singer had to stop the show several times lecturing the audience not to kill each other and not to do drugs. He then went on to screaming at the top of his lungs and kicking himself in the head.

After Black Eyed Peas A Tribe Called Quest - one of the main reasons I was willing to pay the $40 for the show - came out and put on an incredible show. Black Eyed Peas was just warming everyone up, but Tribe left us speachless. They played all the hits (does Tribe have any non-hits?). I’m still trying to get the set list, but I remember Sucka Nigga, Bonita Applebum and then … then, just after the first three notes of Lou Reed’s famous bass line from Walk on the Wild Side and the crowd started going absolutely nuts. I couldn’t find a single person who didn’t know every single word to Can I Kick It.

Tribe Called Quest and Digable Planets where - and still probably are - my two favorite hip-hop acts throughout the 90’s and it was very cool to finally be able to see them live.

Next was Ben Harper, someone I’ve seen numerous times in concert, but only once has he put on a mediocre show. The guy is a performer; there’s not doubt about it. Throughout the late 90’s Ben Harper, Dave Matthews, Ani Difranco, and Phish were my bands. I dunno, maybe I’ve parted with my psuedo-hippie ways, but for whatever reason I rarely listen or keep up with any of those bands now. Just a couple nights earlier a few of my friends saw the Dave Matthews Band at Coors Amphitheater but all agreed that it just wasn’t worth the $50 to be sitting on the lawn and looking at a giant screen. Still though, those early Dave Matthews and Phish shows will forever hold a special place in my heart (and probably my kidney).

The absoute highlight of the show though - and probably only for me and nobody else - was when Ben Harper invited the Blind Boys of Alabama onto stage with him. I’ve been a Blind Boys fan for a long time now - ever since we used to play their CDs every morning when I worked at Esmeralda Bookstore. As you can imagine though Gospel Music isn’t exactly the most fitting genre with Street Scene so, regardless of Ben Harper’s endorsement, almost the entire crowd started making their way to the exits. It was like the away team just hit the winning homer in the 9th. I was reminded of how Pearl Jam fans once booed Neil Young - one of the kings of rock and roll - because they had no idea who he was and thought he looked like a fucked up version of Meat Loaf.

I was ecstatic though. Kurt Vonnegut once said that music is “the only proof ever needed of the existence of God.” I could never call it “proof” but I do know exactly what he is talking about and I knew it all the better when I heard The Blind Boys of Alabama singing Wade in the Water with Ben Harper passionately leading the verses. There was this Bostonian girl that had been following Raman and I around and I wanted to lose her. I wanted to be completely alone - I was happy everyone else was leaving - just don’t look at me ’cause I was having a fucking good time.

I mean why is that? Why do we feel so good when we listen to good music? Why does the climax of this song or that song (I don’t care if it’s Punk you like or classical or jazz or whatever) feel you with an emotion that says not only that everything is ok, but that it always was and always will be? Try and give me some evolutionary explanation of that.

The concert was over, I lost the Bostonian and found Raman. Then we found Eli and his new lady friend KC and we were ready to cruise. People were hurting outside the gates. Drunk and hurtin. Passed this girl with her friends holding up her hair for her. One dude was passed out by the dumpster (it’s alright homie, I’ve been there) and many more were passed out in the bars, cigar shops, and cafes that dot Gaslamp. Despite the fact that I’d been up since 5:30 though, I still had plenty of energy so Raman and I cruised to Rachel’s aparment. In fact, we saw a convertible pass by on the street and asked if we could jump in - probably shoulda asked for a ride back PB.

But it was cool to see Rachel, see her new place, and meet her friends. I ate all her chips and then passed out on her floor. When I woke up everyone was staring at each other in dead silence and it kinda freaked me out so I said let’s bounce.

Three a.m. and I finally arrived back home. I had the hick ups. I didn’t want to work the next day.

So in celebration of the Blind Boys of Alabama and in celebration of you for making it down this far I present you with the mp3 of the Month, Wade in the Water. If I had more energy I too would write out a list of what I’ve been listening to lately, but suffice it to say a lot of Reggae, Dance Hall, and Ska. It’s summer time y’all. You can download the song here.