“Let’s leave before the headliner,” an obnoxious, predictably male voice materialized from somewhere amidst the haze of the smoke-filled patio at the Bottom of the Hill. I shouldn’t have been there: I quit smoking weeks (okay, days) ago. It smelled like cheap cigarettes and cheaper perfume, it was irritatingly chilly as only the City by the Bay can be, but inside was unbearably hot and the smell of nicotine always helps me concentrate as I scribbled away at some barely comprehensible notes. Plus, I wanted to hear the guy finish his sentence: “That’s, like, the most hipster thing you can [...]