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Last night was the Vermillion Lies show in Santa Cruz. Around 9 I set out to pick up Avery, and didn't realize until I was on the freeway that something was wrong with my car. Turns out it was a flat tire--I had ignored dark portents a few weeks ago. At a gas station I presented myself (accurately) as a helpless naïf, and they sold me a patch kit, which I then spent a messy half-hour applying. It felt like a dues-paying moment.

When I got to the cafe, Avery reminisced about the time he and his friend crashed a car into a cliff on twisty, mountainous Highway 9 because the brakes had failed and it seemed better than going off the other side. Then we got into the car and drove on my amateur-repaired tire over the Santa Cruz mountains.

Car drama past, it was a good gig--and, I realized halfway in, my first real Santa Cruz show. Myles Boisen and I had each played with the band, but never together, so we tried to stay out of each other's way, or at least he tried, and I occasionally remembered. Everyone in Vermillion Lies is really nice, and their music is good too. I will miss them.

(I'll be playing with them again--along with my band Tin Cat, and two bands I don't know called Human and Cheddar--at Jungle next Friday.)
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