For the sake of clarification

Fun times at Skybar in Somerville on Saturday night.

The Official Joe Feloni Sendoff Extravaganza featured a lineup of Skybar standouts -- Jen Murdza, Jude Nemo, Cahill, Tommy Dempsey and Tides -- gathered to say thank you to Feloni, whose myspace suggests is leaving the night-to-night club business to focus on his own creative endeavors, including his music.

It was a musical roast, in that everyone good-naturedly teased the guy and then invited him on stage to jam during their sets.

Must admit that my presence at the show had more to do with the headliner than the man of the hour, as I've met Joe exactly once -- and that was only a couple of weeks ago. But hey, I was there, I was cheering and then I was happily taking in the sounds coming from Tides.

But shortly before that set* began, M provided a terrifying thought.

"If a child was born the day you met Andrew, he or she would be able to legally drink by now."

What the hell???

Amazing, how a reference to alcohol will make me realize my age. My jaw dropped, I started laughing and, later, passed along the newsflash to Andrew, who responded similarly.

(Side note: it's nice to have maintained ties to someone who's known you since you were five. I believe he's one of the only people, family aside, with whom I still have that connection, even on a very periphery sort of way.)

But during my drive last night, I did the math again and realized that that little factoid wasn't accurate.

That child would be 20 this year. Which means that he or she isn't quite yet strolling into bars with proper ID.

That said, he or she will surely be out tonight, doing keg stands at a frat party.

I'm so proud.

*I've always found Tides dynamic and engaging, but Saturday's set kicked things up a few notches, much to my delight. The new material presented is tight, filled with strong hooks and more of that "You can tell we all dig U2, but we're branching off in our own direction of pop rock" style the band has honed over the last couple of years. It's the same sound I've come to enjoy, but it felt as if the band has matured infinitely over the latest recording process.

Sometimes you simply can't be where you want to be. But that doesn't stop you from trying to help other people get to where you want to go.

Victoria: Say that in the original script for "Garden State," Natalie Portman was supposed to tell Zach Braff that listening to the Ryan Montbleau Band would change his life. Unfortunately, Zach couldn't get permission to use that band, so he went with The Shins instead.
Nicole: WHAT?!? Really?
V: No, blatant lie. But it sounds good, doesn't it?
N: laughing to the point of gasping cackle I completely believed you.
V: And if you did, you know that he will. Use it. Get him there.
N: Gasping cackles
V: And if that doesn't work, tell him that I'll shiv him if he doesn't go. And we're not talking about a pleasant shivving.
N: No batting his eyes to get out of it.
V: No. He will be incapable of enjoying the process of shiv.

Ahh, hello big world

"Goodbye Little World" closes out the brilliance that is Remy Zero's "Villa Ellaine." After the exhilerating musical rollercoaster of the previous ten tracks, the closer is a charming little ditty that leaves one bobbing one's head with a smile on one's face.

Well, in our little house
There's always room
For all the friends
That help us through
These struggling days

It was in my head last night, shortly before The Damnwells took the stage at TT the Bear's in Cambridge.

I'd moved to the bar to order a beer when I cast a glance back, to the spot to which I'd soon return. Five people were gathered into a loose clump, some standing, others leaning against the partition that separated bar from performance/dancefloor space.

They composed my group for the night. Familiar and friendly faces that have played roles in shaping my experiences in this area over the years - in one case, well before even that. Demonstrating the deceptively tiny nature of that which is the music scene I delve into, all had traveled to Cambridge for the night, arriving in pairs or solo, gradually meshing together with smiles and hugs of greeting.

Others that I knew were interspersed throughout the crowd. It was difficult to scan the audience without letting my gaze fall on a recognizable face.

A random, whirlwind impulse had prompted me to throw clothing into two bags and head to Massachusetts a night earlier than originally planned. It was the prospect of seeing one of my closest friends, bolstered by the promise of a good show by one of my favorite bands.

But as I returned to my spot and shared a smile or two, it felt most as if I had simply come home.

And we got heavy traffic on the stairs
With darlin' Sherrie over there and Sarah's back in town
Kim and Kay sit on the floor
While Zelda hides the closet doors,
Never to be found
See John smile and Mia sigh
Katie cries
Mia plays the violin.

This little world is all I need
And hey, this little world needs
Not much more to be a
Completely perfect world
We will be leaving soon
And we might never get back to you
But before we do
Goodbye and fare thee well

If I'm gonna go down I'm gonna do it with style. You won't hear me surrender, you won't hear me confess cause you've left me with nothing but I have worked with less. - Ani DiFranco

We're taught to open ourselves up to other people. Part of learning and growing is to share yourself with other people, to let them see the good (and the bad, ugly, timid, frightened, zany and adorable) that composes who you are.

I know that there is inherent good to such action, and I'm realizing it again today, if not for a decidedly different reason.

Opening yourself up shows you who you can trust and who you can't. You learn who is worth it and who isn't.

It's one of the most painful lessons to learn. And I can feel the shell around me harden as I experience this rapid-fire education.

Simply put, the people I know are hurting me. They are disappointing me. They are making me realize that I don't register as nearly as important to them as they have to me. And while they can tell me they love me and adore me until they are blue in the face, I've grown tired of nodding my head at empty words. I'm not seeing any form of demonstrative action and
I
am
angry.

But at least I'm learning. I won't repeat these mistakes.

Reason No. 23520 I'm happy to be single right now:

I enjoy singular pronouns far too much to be in a relationship.

I could sum up the last couple of days in several different ways, but I think right now, I'm just going to quote a song some dude wrote awhile ago.

I learned a year's worth of lessons in a weekend.

A best friend

It was dark, but enough lights had been turned on to make out the shape of the skyline. I studied them as we glided back to the shore.

I felt a playful nudge against my left side. "Who here is going to know who you are?"

I pointed to a clump of three buildings. "Everyone who would fit in those. That many. They'll know."

She smiled at me, knowing how much I wanted it. These buildings, this ocean, these sounds, this place and everything that comes wrapped up with it. "Yes, they will."

Later, as I navigated the uneven sidewalk with my high-heeled shoes, she took my arm and pointed off to the side. "Those are the buildings you chose."

I took a quick count. Top floor, 12 rooms - and only perhaps a quarter of one row on one side of one building.

Gulp.

"You know, I meant those other buildings. You know, the smaller ones. Baby steps."

We laughed, she shook her head.

"No, I think you were right the first time."

I receive mailings from Bob Lefsetz. The mailing list to which I'd subscribed boats that it is the "first in music analysis."

It tends to be interesting, I'll say that. I look forward to the little bits of insight that can come across sometimes, amid the huffing and puffing often contained within the work.

(I don't use those words disparagingly - doesn't all music discussion boil down to huffing and puffing in the end?)

"True Companion," one of the latest mailings, however, included something I thought quotable and then some. We're not talking music here. We're just talking about life and relationships in general. And it's painfully accurate.

I don't want to talk about things. I want to talk about you, who you are, what you feel. Not only your victories, but your losses. Hold back, and probably we won't be spending too much time together. For not only is our interaction unfulfilling, you make me feel like some kind of freak, for wanting to know. And, if you tell enough, and feel the warmth from the bond, and gently investigate, I'll tell you my story too. Which is so hard for me to do, but what I'm dying to do.

Have a great weekend.

...instead of knocking on my door...

I'm going to focus on this for a couple of minutes. Then I am going to resume my pre-game, get gussied up, blare Phil Collins' "Don't Lose My Number" and then hit the town. Yep.

B looked over at me as she read.

My eyebrows were raised.

"You don't think..."

I quickly hushed the thought. "No, I really don't think so."

It isn't, is it?

Can't be. Why would it be?

Nope.

So, if not, why did I feel badly as we walked down the street?

And, likewise, why did I feel a bit of indignation fire up within me? Because if it is...

Nah.

Related: a quote from "Candy Freak," the book Beth is reading. By Steve Almond.

Art is what happens when things don't work out, when you're licking your wounds. Art is, to a larger extent than people would like to think, a productive licking of the wounds.

Thank goodness I was in a church and using my phone would wreak havoc on proper ettiquette.

The reverend was bringing the service to a close, and the sobs that had echoed through the space had just begun to subside. Everyone present knew they'd get louder upon arriving at the cemetery.

It was time for the "love each other" moment and I was ready for it. But what I wasn't prepared for was such an impressive delivery of the message.

As the assembly nodded and hugged each other, I stared in surprise. And my first impulse was to reach for my cell phone and make a call.

It was important! These are things that need to be shared among one another! What if something happened and I didn't get a chance!

Seriously. I was ready to call.

But wait. Location. Church. Service in session.

Not so much.

And then I came to my senses as I walked to my car.

And this, boys and girls, is why we wait when we have impulses to do something foolish. Fortunately, these impulses pass.