over the years, i have habitually found myself gravitating toward and residing in the eastbay. yet, it was my first encounter with the eastbay that left its most profound and indelible mark upon my psyche. i suspect my fascination with berkeley is rooted in my adolescent memories of lying on my bedroom floor faithfully listening to crimpshrine and greenday records. i remember yearning to trek out to the eastbay, and see the origins of the punk rock that so inspired my young and impressionable punk rock heart.
   i wanted to catch a show at the mighty gilman st. and browse the zines at epicenter. i wanted to loiter aimlessly up and down telegraph, and see for myself all the wonderful places i had read about anxiously in Cometbus.
   my longing became a reality after i dropped out of school, and adopted travel as a means of staying sane. having seen the east coast, it was suddenly time to go west. not surprisingly, berkeley became my immediate destination. like scores of wayward youths before me, i migrated toward the west coast. berkeley beckoned for my arrival with its promise of excitement and adventure.