05-07-05 - 9:30 a.m.
the 14 hour trip to phoenix is really only 11; doing 85 through the desert with minimal stops for fuel and food. while berries and the rumble doll played in the pool at a crappy ramada inn, i was redeemed by bruce at the glendale arena, who took the stage for 21/2 hours with nothing but a guitar, harmonica and piano. less intimate than the tom joad tour, but far more striking in sheer musical prowess; the boss has grown confident in his old age. after almost 25 years of tours, i have begun to analyze the springsteen audience; those just discovering him due to a new cd and media hype who promptly grow restless and leave when an old chestnut like 'racin' in the street' loses their interest; those who discovered him during the monumental '85 tour who go expecting 'glory days' with the band and leave when he breaks into a rare live version of 'state trooper'; and those like me, who have been there from the beginning and would pay to hear him sing in the shower. not many people in the world understand that kind of passion- the kind that fuels the soul- whether it's music or religion or drugs or love- my return to an entire cult of walmart zombies who greeted me with "you-drove-how-far-to-see-who?" is proof of that.
on the return home, berries and i stopped in vegas and pushed the stroller through paris and caesar's; we lunched at a 'sidewalk cafe' beneath that gargantuan trojan horse outside f.a.o. schwartz in the forum shops. a disneyland version of couture; surreal and expensive- we blew $40 on two italian sandwiches and pastries, but fun watching sunburned tourists ponder glass cases of foccacia and la rossa beer without pricetags. back to the buffets, you rubes!