Summer Guide

CityBeat
Contribution to the Summer Guide Feature (written in the style of "choose your own adventure")

Firehouse – P.B.
You wake up to the sun forcing its way through the cracks in your blinds. It is finally summer, and you are finally ready to wake up before noon and bare your legs on a pleasant walk to Firehouse – it’s breakfast time. As you arrive, panting slightly, you notice the valet (duly noted for those less-than-hydrated hangover mornings). You choose to be seated on the second level and begin eagerly examining the menu. There’s something about pancakes that makes you feel like you’re on vacation, so you don’t hesitate to order Firehouse’s Hippy pancakes, which are literally covered in blueberries, bananas and toasted granola. You also intuitively order the black currant-infused iced tea – lounging on the rooftop patio while indulging in delicious food and staring at the glittering ocean will undoubtedly get a little heated. You take note of the impressive fire pit and cushioned patio furniture surrounding it. Maybe you’ll come back tonight – if it’s a Thursday you can take advantage of the $3 wells, drafts and bottled beers. After you’ve finished your meal and tipped generously, you:

1. Go Downtown
2. Go to North Park (to buy a swimsuit at Fables by Barrie)
3. Stay in P.B.

SD Coffee, Tea and Spice; Bub's Dive – staying in P.B.
After getting a wind chill while lying on the beach to let your food settle, you make your way to San Diego Coffee, Tea and Spice. You order the best chai latte San Diego has to offer and sip on it while you people watch. You come to the realization that old people have the coolest clothes, so you decide to make your way to the thrift stores on Garnet. After finding a few super-cool tees at Goodwill and some pants you can turn into cut-off shorts at the Cerebral Palsy Thrift Shop, you realize you’re starving. Bub’s Dive is the first place that comes to mind, so you swiftly make your way to the bar whose floor is covered in peanut shells. You feed many dollar bills to the digital jukebox behind the bouncer so as to prevent any annoying music from ruining your face-stuffing lunch hour. Gorillaz, White Stripes, The Black Keys, The Rolling Stones and “Move Bitch” by Ludacris make your cheese-covered Lunch Lady Tater Tots and saucy Russian Roulette Wings even more satisfying. You eventually find the one crazy-spicy wing, and, while soothing your tongue with a big glass of ice water, you notice CityBeat columnist Enrique Limón walk in. After raving to him about the adventurous wings you just ate, he tells you he needs a ride to a “spicy” place, but he can’t decide between Hillcrest or South Bay, so you:

1. Take Enrique to Hillcrest
2. Take Enrique to South Bay
3. Tell him to take a hike and instead stay in P.B. and go to Surf Indian

There's a First Time for Everything

The Vista
Column

Last April, my roommates and I decided to defiantly ignore our budgets and put a deposit down on a two-bed, two-bath, two-story apartment one block away from the beach. Though I was hesitant about signing a lease that required us to split the $1,795 rent only three ways, my roommates were impulsive boys, and their active, beach-going ways were hard for them to deny.

So we moved down to an area with more parking, and into a place with a backyard that had an outdoor shower. The three of us had big plans to surf, lay out, go running and cook in our own kitchen on a regular basis. But big plans are hard to commit to, and we did all four of those things extremely rarely (as in maybe two or three times each in one year).

I’ve since considered myself to be quite lazy, or overly busy with too many responsibilities that are separate from my home life and well being. I tell myself that I never have the time to cook because I never have the time to grocery shop, or that I never have the time to go to the beach because I have class until four and I’ll get home around 4:30 p.m., at which point I would only be able to sit in the sand for about 10 minutes, since it starts to get dark and cool down around 5 p.m. or so.

My favorite excuse is the one I make when I should exercise. I justify my lack of activity by explaining to myself that I’m so worn out from thinking and from doing too much work, which makes it okay for me to sit in my bed and play Words With Friends until I get sleepy and put on a Netflix movie to relax my brain before I settle in for six hours of effed up dreams.

But I’m beginning to learn that these excuses are stupid. The other day it was absolutely gorgeous outside. My class got out half an hour early, I had a delicious sandwich at La Paloma and realized that it was hot enough outside to go to the beach. The day got even better when my boyfriend called me to say he got off work early, so we decided to go to the beach when I got home.

As soon as I walked into my house I had that urge to just put on my pajamas and take a nap with the fan on, but my boyfriend and I somehow resisted. I put on my bikini, he waxed his surfboard and we started our five-minute trek to the beach.

Between the time I left campus and the time I got to my house, the temperature had dropped about 15 degrees and I was covered in goose bumps. My boyfriend sighed that the waves were “gonna be shitty” as we neared the boardwalk, and he was right. But we stuck to our guns and walked down the wooden stairway to the sand.

The wind picked up as soon as we chose our spot, and it was nearly impossible to lay our towels down, but we managed, and we talked about things important to us for about 45 minutes until the wind and the cold became too much and we needed to go home and be warm. We were so happy and refreshed that we let our indoor cats roam through our tiny backyard, until they started to eat grass and spiders, at which point we lured them back in with catnip.

I haven’t had another free moment since that day, but I understand that I can if I decide to, especially if I put my bikini on before I convince myself otherwise (kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid). I look forward to the next day that I can lay down and let the wind pass over me in waves while I contemplate my future as a college graduate that has two cats, no money and, as of press time, no job. 

Demo Reviews

CityBeat

DOT
Handle Without Care
It’s hard to describe DOT, as they don’t fit one genre, a fact made evident by the switch from bluesy alternative rock to a Cake-like spoken rap-esque screamo…thing. I understand that DOT is actually trying to be experimental and be really loud and wild, but the band’s music needs a bit more definition in order for it to really flow. Such incongruence could be the result of the band’s hiatus and subsequent new lineup, but in order for their musical talent to be put to good use, they need to find their niche. Or maybe I just don’t get it. MS/dotdotdot

Foreign Film
EP
Foreign Film is the definition of sunny San Diego pop rock, as evidenced by comments on their iTunes page (“This album is great to ride your bike to!”). The three-man band’s first EP, released on Mannequin Vanity Records, is a fast-paced yet easy-going mix of what I describe as “bounce in the passenger seat-y” music for young folk. The songs sound like what would come about if Weezer, The Strokes, The Walkmen and Rooney formed a supergroup, Dead Weather style. listn.to/foreignfilm

Gaze Shoe
Sleeping Above 3rd Ave.
Sleeping Above 3rd Ave., a collection of droning electronica, is the product of Kyle Baudour, a multi-instrumentalist whose work is released by Hop Skip Jump records. The mystical, almost eerie, music is set to a constant background of drone and reverb. With this genre of sound comes the risk of completely letting oneself go, meditatively speaking. Baudour makes the taking of said risk an inevitable result of paying full attention to the art contained on this EP, which, from my experience, is a good thing. Gaze Shoe is a hit for people that like dramatic films with emotional instrumental soundtracks. gazeshoe.bandcamp.com

The Sixties
Songs of Our Love (& Hate)
If you’re a fan of boy/girl harmonies, you’ll appreciate The Sixties whole-heartedly. Their calm and honest lyrics are relatable and tell an interesting story of what sounds like a pretty destructive relationship. With songs titled “Drunk on a Wire” and “The Drugs Don’t Work,” and lyrics like, “Sure your love was great/ But you fucked it up,” The Sixties have joined a beloved realm of music that is embraced by both contemplative hipsters and drunk 20-something-year-olds alike. I recommend this band for fans of Tilly and The Wall and Best Coast. 3944.bandcamp.com/album/self-titled

Phen Swan
Hidden Vibrations
If you love Dntel and Panda Bear, you will certainly appreciate Phen Swan. A pleasant mix of both comparisons, Phen Swan samples interesting, everyday occurrences, like a crowd cheering at his cousin Andrew’s swim meet, and incorporates them into melodic loops electro-acoustically. Take one look at Swan’s tumblr (phenswan.tumblr.com) and you’ll understand how his brain creates such an intriguing array of sample combos, and you’ll enjoy listening to the album that much more. Each copy of Hidden Vibrations is personalized with an extra track and a unique drawing insert so that each listener can have their own personal experience. phenswan.bandcamp.com