It’s hard to see the end when you’re beginning
Time goes by you start to see the light

Sometimes getaway manifests itself as familial responsibility, a ticket home. Thankfully.

I left the Bay Area in 1992 at the age of 27. Never to return. Both my parents fled their birthplaces. Runs in the sangre.

Returning remains singular. The sun, the sea, the sky. Past and present, another lifetime’s ghosts mingling among all tomorrow’s parties. Raiders vs. 49ers. U.C. Berkeley fall load-in, Sunday, 10am. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Be sure to wear flowers in your hair…

In case you can't tell from the poster here, there's a "psychedelic" theme for tonight's show at the Mohawk. Furthermore, it also features four of Austin's best new bands. For real. Horse + Donkey headline. Cry Blood Apache have finally hit their stride now that they've ditched the trash can and settled on straight-up Cabaret Voltaire-wired-through-Wire's amps. Kicking things off are the always-solid trio Cavedweller and new local duo Headdress.

Celebrities are dying to ask me for advice.

OK, not really. But I’ve been addicted to gossip columns since I was a child, and I still devour them. My pen pal, "14," the fabulously talented artist/celeb commentator of Gallery of the Absurd, keeps my celebrity schadenfreude ever stoked with her wicked artwork. Still, as I endlessly pour over
D-Listed, Go Fug Yourself, and TMZ, I find myself taking mental notes and carrying on mental conversations like:

Britney Spears: Oh, Lord. You can take the girl out of the trailer park but…. P.S. to Criss Angel: If you really want to know what you're getting into, there are pictures of her Brazilianed beaver all over the net. Just remember who got there before you - it's the best birth control in the world.

Angelina Jolie: You are exquisitely lovely and your tattoos SUCK. Please. I beg you. Before you haul your brood in for matching tattoos, find a good tattoo artist, someone old who knows their art. I know a few of the REALLY good ones. Call me, Angie baby. I fixed Lucinda up with hers and can help you take care of yours.

Amy Winehouse: You really need to go to rehab, yes, yes, yes. Darling, you have one of the best voices and styles in ages. I love your Ronnie-Spector-meets-Elvis’-Priscilla look, but you are a MESS. Not a hopeless mess like Brit-Brit, but a fixable mess. So stay in rehab (take a look at pics of Courtney Love the last few years for inspiration or see Judy Garland before she died) and dump your husband Kevin Federline. Oops, I meant Blake Fielder Civil. (P.S. You will be SO sorry you got that golddigger’s name tattooed on your chest.)

Amy Annelle, aka the Places, and Ralph White are true kindred spirits, musical nomads whose bodies of work seem to yearn for the same pastoral past. The two are set to venture West, accentuating each other’s work in the best way they know how: Annelle with a 1933 Gibson L-00 guitar and White with an assortment of accordions, banjos, and fiddles.

Most of the dates, listed after the jump, are in support of revered folkie Michael Hurley, who is set to release The Ancestral Swamp on Devendra Banhart's Gnomonsong label. Hurley contributed harmony to Annelle's version of Hank Williams' "I'm So Lonely I Could Cry," one of the bonus tracks on the Places’ hauntingly beautiful, Fawns with Fangs: Selections from the Dark Heart of the Thicket. Recorded in various parts of Colorado, New Jersey, Oregon, and Texas, and released in 2005, the album transforms the works of Led Zeppelin, Neil Young, and Bob Dylan, among others, into enchanted lullabies.

There's no telling where these two will wander off, but both are scheduled to resurface in Austin September 27 at Lovejoys.

A sign of the apocalypse? Not according to the tastemakers over at Pitchfork. And what with Daryl Hall's recent cameo on Flight of the Conchords (hey, Oates was on Wonder Showzen first), could a Hall & Oates indie rock renaissance be far behind? My seven-year-old self is squealing inside.

Perhaps the best idea since Whirlyball, South First odds and ends boutique the Opera House, located directly behind End of an Ear, presents Teddy & Marge Thursday night. The Attic Ted side-project warps old timey tunes from the Twenties and the Thirties into oddly charming waltzes of accordion, banjo, and cello. The show is coupled with a bike-in movie, Charlie Kaufman's modern classic Adaptation. All things considered, Pee-Wee's Big Adventure might have been a more appropriate choice, but we're not complaining. The event starts at 8pm, and there's a $3 suggested donation.

Tonight, R. Kelly awaits you at the Alamo South Lamar, where chapters 13-22 of Trapped in the Closet will be screened at midnight. This next installment promises to be triple chocolate bananas ridonkulous because, in case you haven't heard Double Up yet, Kells still does not give a fuck.

The first 48 seats will go to people who pre-purchase the DVD from Waterloo Video, either in person or through the Alamo website.

Chapters 1-12 screen first at 11:15pm. That's a lot of Trapped in the Closet, so make sure you go to the bathroom ahead of time.

(Sorry, I had to.)

Many years ago, I made a trip to Graceland with the Joe Ely Band. It was before Graceland was open to the public so we stood around the graves, chatted up Uncle Vester Presley at the front gates, and wasted money on Elvis hotdogs at the Elvis Presley Eternal Flame souvenir shop across Elvis Presley Boulevard. TCB, baby!

Not long after, I tagged behind the Ely band to a gig in Corpus Christi. We stopped at a convenience store in Mathis, Texas on the way back and a poster caught my eye. “Duke Presley,” it read. A cousin of Elvis’, the poster boasted, along with a few other gassy claims. I stole the poster and when I got back to the Chronicle, shared it with Carolyn Phillips in our sales department. She shared it with Ted Roddy for the first Elvis show and he used that same poster – with a few changes – for his original Graceland Revue shows.

I’ve sat through more than a few of Roddy’s Elvis tributes at the Continental (one of which takes place Saturday). I’ve hoisted many a beer during “Viva Las Vegas” and coughed through the now-defunct Totally Smokin’ shows. I’ve oohed and aahed to Shaun Young’s Blue Moon Boys, swooned to Roddy’s “2001: A Space Odyssey” entrance, and sung loudly to “Suspicious Minds.” I’ve also seen Elvis tribute bands and imitators in places as far away as Hawaii and there’s no question that Ted Roddy is one of the best. His rich baritone is Elvis-like but he doesn’t seek to slavishly ape the King, just pay serious homage. And that’s good enough for me.

Sheep-friendly sludge trio the Flood celebrate the release of their ferocious full-length debut, Power to the Sheeple, tomorrow night at Trophy's, a club they were allegedly "banned" from just last month. What you have to do to get banned from Trophy's is beyond me, but the live show is definitely worth catching. It's also a kick-off for their "Dirty South" tour, which will take them from San Antonio all the way to lovely Jackson, Mississippi. Good luck, boys.

Also down South tomorrow night, catch Black Angels guitarist Christian Bland's new project Pig Boat Blues, along with All in the Golden Afternoon and the Tunnels at the Rockin' Tomato, 3003 S. Lamar. Free!

Plus! Baby Robots celebrate the release of their new decade-spanning blur, 10-Year High, at End of an Ear with Horse + Donkey. 6pm. FREE BEER. GOOD RECORDS.