One insane girl.
Wish me luck. If you don’t hear from me again, please feed the cats.
You can trick or treat at the kexp studio today. I’m sitting at my desk in a tiger costume processing NIH grants. What a strange world.
I have been having disturbing dreams again. It has been suggested that I’m eating too much baked potato before bed. The dreams are lucid and visceral and I have a little hole in my heart today. The images rent my ventricles apart.
Speaking of ventricles, holy Decemberists show on Friday! I love the circle of incest that is Northwest bands. You go to see Rilo Kiley, and Ben Gibbard from Death Cab comes out for the finale. Or you go to see the Decemberists at the Showbox, and John Roderick of the Long Winters comes out swing-dancing and drops trou on stage, airing his boxer shorts for the audience. Or you go to see Death Cab for Cutie and — oh shit, I forgot to tell that story. It was so long ago. I’ve been going to so many shows and not writing about them – but I went to see Death Cab at the Paramount Theatre last December and Ben Gibbard says, “I’m going to ask my friend Eddie to come up on stage to help us out on this song…” and everyone’s looking around for the dork in the audience who gets to climb up on stage to shake a tambourine with the band because they were in high school together or something, but no – Eddie Fucking Vedder comes out and grabs a microphone. Hi. I live here. And after the song, Ben says, “I wish I could tell my 15-year-old self what just happened.” It was pretty incredible.
Plus I got to yell, “Omigod – it’s Eddie Vedder!” which is a nonsense greeting that arose during days at the Daily Caffe when everyone looked like Eddie Vedder, except that it really was Eddie Vedder. For real.
Anyway, the Decemberists show was nothing short of brilliant and I watched Jenny in awe and reverence as she went at the keys with a drama club vengeance. Colin was an absolute terror and climbed all over the drum kit, falling on the drummer, and jumped into the crowd and made everyone get down on the floor, jogged on and off stage continually, and then played “Red Right Ankle” acoustic and split my heart wide open right there.
Of course, that’s nothing compared to Colin stealing V V B’s copy of The Bell Jar from her bag and reading it on stage during the New Haven show last week.
I’ve added my siamese twin X-ray Sexysushi to my “friends and neighbors” list on the right. Not only is he one of my favorite people on the planet, but he takes amazing photographs of Tokyo. Check out his blog, even if you can’t read Japanese. If you can, even better cause he’s really fucking funny.
My Nathan Bright Autumn Sky went to Guatemala to help with hurricane recovery efforts. The village where he taught, San Andres Itzapa, was hit hard. See his moving shots of his relief trip in October.
My friends are amazing.
More to follow.
Also, it’s imperative that you go get the new Flunk album. Go. Now.
A Halloween riddle, courtesy of my mom:
Why can’t witches have babies?
Cause their husbands have hollow-weenies!
Trick or treat.
If I wasn’t already spoken for, I’d be stalking Glen Hansard and following the Frames like the Grateful Dead.
I was commanded to GET UP FRONT for the National. So there.
Life at China Sun Marina, for V V B.
I recently went to see Lou Barlow play at the Sunset Tavern in Ballard, of all places. He had a box of his newly released CDs that were returned to him from record stores who failed to sell them the first few weeks of its debut. He offered them cheaper than the price stamped on the partially torn Tower Records stickers. He didn’t take it personally.
also, please see: cats in sinks