blessed are the easily amused

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

your glass is only half empty?

I could overhear someone singing to herself, quietly. I could meet the gaze of a laughing baby. I could smash the shit out of a bunch of smiling, ceramic figurines. I could smell sun-warmed flannel. I could sleep on the rocking waves in a boat bound for nothing but freedom. I could eat a mango. I could light fires and spit razors. I could buy a hundred pairs of gorgeous and impractical shoes.

But this week would still suck.

 

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

down the rabbit hole

Oh it was wonderful, oh. I saw colours and textures and ... it's hard to remember while I'm here at the Mothership. I have memories of the smell of pizza at a Greenwich Village 2 a.m. stop and it's fading even as I type this. There goes the pepperoni. Curiouser and curiouser. It's like the filthy grey fabric on the little drone dividers is memory-absorbent. Some memories I will save for later, to be resurrected by a passing whiff of diesel, sweat or incense. Some I will tell you about over a beer, if you'll take me out for one, or two.

I'll tell you about the non-stop parade of live music the last few weeks has been. Audio amazement. Everything from Buena Vista Social Club guy Ibrahim Ferrer to Sarah Harmer to ohmygod Martin Sexton to Ruthie Foster's gospel thunder which is mysteriously powerful.

Not to mention the annual magic of Old Style Millikin playing their whiskey bottle duet. Jack Millikin must be at least 85 by now. His spine gets shorter every year while his passion for singing here's another whiskey, drink 'er down burns brighter. That show was met not only by thunderous applause but actual thunder as the outdoor venue was pounded with rain. The one day in my life I wear a light-coloured dress. And crazily floral unmentionables. It's OK, I still have the same amount of dignity as before - it operates on a float system, much like a toilet tank. And I have a new nickname, which I'm sure everyone will forget immediately. Your eyes are getting heavier... you are very relaxed...

Travelling with the she-wolves was totally transcendent. Sure there were times when you could sense the homicidal rage trying to contain itself in the back seat. There were times when the right NYC exit was just behind you and a maze of wrong ones was closing in, festooned with signs in elvish runes. But Christa got her red vegan mary janes from Moo Shoes and Tracey got her butterfly belly button ring and I got some stuff, too, and it was all just great.

What I learned on my summer vacation

It is really possible to go places. Almost any place. This trip kicked the ass of that forlorn schmuck dawdling in front of the furniture store window wondering at her passive placement in the world. When you joke about buying a house in Mexico, Christa gives you this very serious look that says, "You know, we really could; all we have to do is get like 6 people who are into it and share and stuff..." Kudos to Christa, most mobile and most noble. May we tip back more delightful local beers in more surprising locales.

Some people are just great friends. When I was in grade 8, me and my best friend Darla had some mighty dreams of rock stardom. We were terrible influences on each other. It was wonderful. Sort of like Heavenly Creatures without the creepiness and brain-bashing. Not long after that we meandered off onto our separate paths. This month Darla and I wrote songs together. We wandered by sunny rapids, barefoot in mud. I met her brilliant family and congratulated her on her excellent husband. We danced and mused. Thank you Darla and Sean, most hospitable of hosts. Please come and drink our beer and eat our food.

I have more to say about all this, but you'll have to buy me another beer first.