S.P.D.

St. Patrick's Day! My second favorite holiday! The day before a long weekend!

Good times. Happy holiday to you. Enjoy. Wear green. Listen to "Barroom Hero" and "Green Kegs and Spam" (especially the latter, as it's .peter.j.).

As for me? I'm wearing the green. I've listened to the tunes. I'm looking forward to dancing around to Ryan Montbleau tonight. I'm happy to be Irish.

Etc.
Etc.
Etc.

In other news. Ryan Adams will be at Higher Ground in April. Listen to Tom McRae. Have a great weekend (as mine starts this evening).

Yep, that's it today.

Soul Singing

It's interesting, walking into a show that should somehow be "big" or "special." Of course I look forward to any show I choose to attend, but when it's a rare opportunity or, in this case, a not-so-secret secret show, there's a little extra flutter in my stomach as the house lights finally go dark.

My spot in the fifth row of a relatively intimate club last night marked quite a difference from the last and only other time I'd seen the Black Crowes perform - River Rave at Foxboro. Thinking about it now, the two settings are about as far from each other as one could get.

I laughed good-naturedly at the sight of many concertgoers proudly clad in their Black Crowes T-shirts - I let my anti-band-performing-t-shirt stance slide for the night (I know, that I have such a stance shows my music snob side, but I can't fight it - it usually drives me nuts). The crowd was as expected, a mix of significantly older fans, boisterous college kids and the twentysomethings like myself somewhere in the middle. Everyone was excited, no one really seemed to know what to expect.

Among those in attendance, I noticed shortly before the incense was placed on stage, was Trey. Seemed appropriate enough, and he was just minding his business on the small VIP balcony above the corner of the bar. I wasn't terribly surprised, as a result, to see someone who looked suspiciously like Les Hall (Howie's keyboardist/guitarist on the full band tours and now keyboardist for Trey's latest project). Anyone happen to know if that was him?

Anyway. The Crowes came on about a half hour late, but performed for a solid two hours. My ears were ringing by the third song. Full out driving, twangy, Black Crowe-goodness rock, led by Chris, in all his eccentric glory. The man is just fascinating to watch and listen to. They focused on the fast-tempoed portions of their canon, but truth be told, it's all blending together in my mind already. I just focused on the sound and dancing along.

After a long encore break, I started to get nervous. I saw the crew set up a small amplifier, and I had a feeling I knew what was coming. I was probably one of the few in the crowd who hoped it wouldn't happen.

When the band took the stage again, Chris actually said something other than "Thank You." Shock of all shocks! But it was part of an introduction for the musician sitting in on the encore...yep. Trey.

I should interrupt my recap for a moment to explain the Trey thing. I'm not a big Phish fan. There are two songs I like, the rest I just have never clicked with. Despite growing up in Vermont, despite college in the Burlington area, the Phish thing just never happened for me. No, I didn't go to Coventry. No, I wasn't upset about it. And my main Phish experience was walking into a Cumby's during college and having Trey run into my shoulder in the doorway. He didn't say excuse me, by the way.

Despite my Phish ambivalence, I've wound up seeing him perform in various locations. I admit it, he's good. But there's this whole hushed "Trey" vibe around this area that just makes me chuckle. He's just a musician, for Christ's sake.

Anyway, back to the story. The encore was great. Trey jammed and, I should acknowledge, he was great. I've never denied that he's a brilliant musician, composer, etc. And he certainly demonstrated it. I just get irksome whenever it seems like he comes close to stealing someone else's thunder - and I've seen that occur on several occasions. Whatever.

Everyone seemed into the show throughout, but didn't let completely loose until the last song. Myself included. How can you not just have a blast and dance around when you have an extended jam performance of "Hard to Handle" performed in front of you?

Exactly.

Faux Friday

Amazing how one little thing (a whole lot of stress disappearing), coupled with a few other little things (sunshine, relatively warm temperatures, several new music suggestions thrown my way), make the hours leading up to another little thing (I'm sorry, I'm gushing, but I'm really looking forward here) dance by with the giddiness generally reserved for a Friday.

I've been in a funk - who knows, probably still am - the last few days, and I think it's because I've simply been looking at everything ahead of me with a feeling of forboding. Feels like way too much in some areas, not nearly enough in others. I don't have the balance I want - hell, I don't have a number of key things the way I want.

I was being my typical smart-ass self when Beth commented on the idea of a point of view switch (read: if you're not sure, even half the times you are sure, if I'm being serious? I'm being sarcastic. Character trait. Learn it, live it, love it). But now? I'm starting to get the hang of it. I can't just wish away the things I don't like, but I can break it down and focus on the things I do.

Fun times to be had tonight - and I believe I'm going to use the experience to kick my ass into gear with setting up the new a&e blog. Someone say "review"? Spring is approaching, admittedly slow and lethargically, but it's approaching. Also approaching are a series of fun evenings and a 2.5- or 3-day weekend jaunt in Boston (read: I'm going to get into Boston pretty early on Friday. Likely to have afternoon free. Will happily meet up with friends. Contact me). Things, when I break them down into easily managable bites, really aren't as dire as my overdramatic self can often make them out to be.

It's all good, really. And will only get better.

For the Australian visitor...

...curious as to why Friar Laurence left Juliet alone in "Romeo & Juliet." For what it's worth (I doubt s/he will return here, as I didn't provide the answers s/he sought). Think about the scenario. Why would Father Laurence have stayed with Juliet? She was supposedly dead. Only he and she knew that she was in fact only in a poison-induced coma (of sorts, naturally). Had he remained with her, had he done anything to indicate that she required company or supervision, it would have raised some form of red flag with those he and she were both attempting to dupe into thinking it had actually been suicide.

Ah, star-crossed lovers...anyway. Consider that my public service of the day.

Today marks a big day. I complete something I've been agonizing over for most of my waking hours these last several weeks. I wash my hands of it - at least, one portion of it. I take what I can get.

Following the relief of being done, I prepare for and subsequently enjoy the Black Crowes at Higher Ground. One hell of a way to celebrate, I must say. Granted, it hasn't officially been announced as the Crowes (wink wink), but hey. I'm ready to rock out with no expectations other than the fact that it'll be the closest I'll come to the sense of being at a now-classic-rock show during its heyday. Curse my parents for waiting to have me until 1980.

In other news. Adding a link on the side to GunGuys, led by the Mike Magnum over at Mike Magnum's Liquor Store and Gun Emporium. Check it, yo. M^2 is packing wit and insight along with his Glocks. We all need some satire in our lives.

A Notice

Apparently the "V travels to Massachusetts every two weeks or so" pattern is kicking right back into gear. Sign of something?

Trust me. I know.

But anyway. For now. File this under "Concert Alert" or "V's Crazy." Either or.

Matt Nathanson
Endicott College
April 23

Which means I'll be at Endicott College (amusing side note: I visited Endicott. Thought about going there. Until I realized the journalism program wasn't all that great and my campus tour involved going into a dorm room and being greeted by the tour guide's roommate, still huddling under the covers of his bed at about 11:30 a.m. Nothing against Endicott by any means, but I was laughing myself off campus) on April 23. With, as I just confirmed, my Boston-area concert partner in crime.

Matty Nay headlining. Ah, visions of "Here I Go Again" and vials of Christ's blood are floating through my head more prettily than sugarplums ever could.

Technical Difficulties

Blogger's crashing left and right for me lately.

Had the program that allows me to share my rambles actually, you know, WORKED, you would have by now bright, sparkly posts on the following topics:

- Life, death and children
- The Odinero and a plane station
- My upcoming (knock on wood) three-day weekend

But blogger's not working. So the posts are now collecting dust in some deserted portion of cyberspace.

A moment of silence, please.

More when Blogger starts cooperating...

I unabashedly adore Nick Hornby.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," comes the cry from the regulars. And they'd be right - this is nothing new - I've long regaled Hornby's works, ever since I first discovered the film version of "High Fidelity" because there was a Belle & Sebastian reference.

So yes, I've often said I enjoy Hornby's work. It's nothing particularly new. But when you love something (in this case, an author's work), it's important to restate that from time to time. Particularly when you have something new to further support your statement.

I'm reading "Fever Pitch." I'd wanted to read it for awhile now, but was finally prompted to seek the book out upon seeing a trailer for the American-ized, Red Sox-ized film version (xoxoJimmyFallonxoxo). I found the book buried in the "Sports - Soccer" section of the bookstore on Saturday and have been devouring it since, although I've forced myself to not read it in a single sitting like I often wind up doing.

I loved "High Fidelity" (how could I not?). "About a Boy" made my 2002 flight from Albany to Salt Lake City race by far more pleasantly than any inflight movie could have. "Songbook" had Bruce Springstein, Rufus Wainwright, Ani, Ben Folds Five, Badly Drawn Boy, and Van Morrison included, to my utter glee.

But it's been "Fever Pitch" that's made me realize just why I enjoy Hornby's work so much. Of course there's the fact that he demonstrates a plain-spoken, witty sort of conversational tone to his writing - which is what I enjoy best and aspire to with my own writing. But more so? He gets me - he thinks the same screwy way that I do.

I don't have the book here with me (I forced myself to leave it at home so I actually get something accomplished today), but there's a passage in which he talks about associating important moments in his life with the corresponding football games (football of course being soccer in its proper form). He remembers details about the games that few others would remember - date, score, opponent, et al. The memories take on a split-screen perspective in his mind.

I'll have to find the quote and include it here. It's really brilliant.

I have a list of calendar dates that remain firmly planted in my mind, a list that prompts chuckles and playful eyerolls from my friends. 1.7, 2.2, 4.30, 6.18, 11.12, etc. I always associate those dates with a particular musical experience. For the past two January 7ths, I've had at least some moment when I flash back to the lightheaded, faint feeling that forced me out of Iota during a soundcheck and onto the 10-show "Mraz Miss Tour" that finally ended when I saw Jason perform in Northampton (10.9, for the record). I recently wrote about my February 2 streak, one that started with the first time I saw Howie Day perform. On June 18, I think of standing in the front row at Paradise, looking up at Howie and John Mayer as they performed in front of me. There are many others.

I'm the person who will emphatically attach significance to shows without even really realizing it until my friends laugh. "Well, this is going to be great. First time seeing Guster perform in the band's homestate!" "First time seeing Howie solo since the Dual Day Day of 2002!" Yes, I admit it. I actually said both of those.

Sure, it's a little dumb of me, but it's the way my mind works. But I often keep those thoughts to myself, by which I mean myself and maybe my two closest friends who know me well enough to guess what I'm thinking. But reading "Fever Pitch," I've burst into laughter on numerous occasions. I read several passages to Beth over the course of the weekend, prefaced with, "Sound familiar?"

She laughed and nodded each time. It was clear to her, too, that Hornby has unknowingly found in me an extraordinarily captive audience.

Hey, hey...

sitemeter
Originally uploaded by alternacoustic.

I'm not generally one for the whole "number of visits thing" when I check out the sitemeter. I'm more for trying to figure out who my "readers" are (hint, hint, comment every once in awhile, my little poppets!). But I figured this was worth noting.

10,000 may be nothing to the more-read blogs I peruse on a regular basis, but as a little blogger, I think it's pretty neat. So thanks. Kisses, hugs and the like go out to each of you.

And let's give it up to my devoted reader(s) from UMaine! You earned the distinction of being the 10,000th visitor. Alas, the prize I'd planned - six days, seven nights in Aruba - fell through. Sorry. But I hope you'll accept my thanks as a worthy, Plan B kind of prize.

In other news, let's update the list. Four (4) concerts next week. It might kill me, but I'll go out with a smile.

Wordbytes.

status check - Friday fatigued
background ambiance - The Doors, "Who Do You Love"

A certain band, known for straddling the gap between contemporary and classic rock, will play a show at Higher Ground early next week under a fake name that's not really as fake as it may sound. I've a great deal of appreciation for the band and was fortunate enough to see them perform at a festival in 2001, a year particularly important to the band's fans.

A certain writer/"blogger"/music sucker might also be seen at this show. Hmm.

Anyway. The ever brilliant and insightful Beth made a remarkable statement during an earlier-than-usual-at-my-suggestion coffee break.

No, not the approval of attending two shows for the opening acts. Although that was funny. I meant the bit about changing the point of view so it all looks rosy.

She said it in jest and we both laughed, but perhaps its necessary in order for me to maintain any semblance of enthusiasm.

So. Rosy points of view.

Original P.O.V. - I'm so damn tired and worn out and I won't get everything done next week that I need to do.
Rosy P.O.V. - It's almost the weekend and I'll have a chance to relax, recharge my batteries and then get everything finished next week, just as I always manage to do.

Original P.O.V. - I've been carrying on what, for all intensive purposes, amounts to a conversation with myself.
Rosy P.O.V. - Conversation is conversation. Whatever.

Original P.O.V. - I don't say what I want to.
Rosy P.O.V. - I'm not shy and overtly self-conscious. I'm deep. Mysterious. Or something.

Original P.O.V. - Winter is never going to end.
Rosy P.O.V. - I'm going to be dancing around in skirts, linen and sandals in no time. I've made it through months of the white stuff, what's another few weeks?

Original P.O.V. - The writing's not going well.
Rosy P.O.V. - I just need one little thing before the floodgates open up and I can't keep up with the brilliant writing that will flow from my mind onto the page.

Original P.O.V. - I want something big, crazy and exciting to happen.
Rosy P.O.V. - Something big, crazy and exciting will happen when I don't expect it to.

Original P.O.V. - I'm in a Vermont funk.
Rosy P.O.V. - I've got two, possibly three concerts to attend next week. I'll be in Boston next weekend. And I'm keeping my fingers crossed about the near future. That's all I can do right now - and I'm doing it.

Original P.O.V. - Dammit, I've got "Lala" stuck in my head and I can't get it out.
Rosy P.O.V. - OK, not much I can do about this one.

Feeling link-happy? Photos from the revels in Manchester are available for viewing pleasure at Averi's dotphoto site. One features yours truly, several friends and a groovy gent with a super bitchin scarf.

Subatomic MC

(What follows is what happens when I decide to ignore feeling annoyed/frustrated/ready to run off to Tahiti and just focus on rambling about whatever came to mind. I haven't spellchecked. Haven't even read it over to see if it makes sense.)

Remember the days when I used to animatedly discuss the newest journal entries on one "Mr. A-Z"'s website?

You know, the days way after the days when I used to cue up my three-track demo CD so the opening chords to "The Remedy" started blaring into my speakers as I prepared to step into the Metro car to get to work?

Ah, memories. Actually wasn't long ago, all things considered. The journal days, not the "Remedy" days. Those were loooooooooong ago.

But sometimes it feels like eons ago, as they were the days before the overly self-analytical series of random, almost seemingly self-indulgent series of songs that began with "Geek In the Pink."*

Rambling? Yes. Deal with it. Anyway.

I still appreciate Signor Mraz's music on a regular basis. I certainly hope his upcoming spring tour makes a stop somewhere remotely near me so I can attend and scat along with the sounds. And I still make sure to occasionally swing by his website to see if there's a new journal post to chuckle or ponder over.

Mainly because Jason gets the whole journal concept. He actually writes. Shares things, no matter how incredibly random they might be. He applies his Sedaris-like skills to whatever screwy topics he choses, regularly creating something I wind up enjoying almost more than the music itself. You get the impression that, were an email from him to wind up in your inbox, it would be long, complex trains of thought strung together by some single statement that just makes the whole thing click.

In my opinion (the only one that matters in this forum unless you choose to comment and, thus, try to contradict me), he is a writer above all else. And he rambles. And that makes me smile.

Speaking of rambles, I know, I know. I'm still rambling. Shush.

Anyway. My timing was right, as I made one of those periodic jaunts over to the site today. Lo and behold, new entry. Random as all hell. I think pertaining to a supposed rumor about how he was dating a Victoria's Secret model (I know it's rumor, I don't know what the rumor precisely is. I've given up on RKOP and just about any other message board, so I'm often a bit more out of the loop these days). But enjoyable, particularly since I can, in many respects, feel like I haven't missed a thing in my indifference-provoked absence.

The comments about the peer-sharing/Supreme Court issue were interesting, but come on, man. I know I'm a New England girl and haven't gotten as close as I might like to the lands of really good Mexican food, but still.

Can’t you see I’m too busy to be signing petitions and traveling to Washington, the worst city in the world to find a decent set of waves and/or get a burrito?

My Chipotle-craving soul gently weeped.

Then he mentioned saying something bad about Mayer and I was too busy chuckling to think of the lime and cilantro rice...

*For what it's worth, I should note that I do enjoy "GITP." I just haven't been crazy about what I've heard since...

Love letter to Blogger

Dearest of blog-doms,

I turned to you earlier this afternoon. I wanted to get the thoughts in my mind out onto the page. I was feeling blue, a bit disconnected, very listless.

I thought your post screen would serve as some semblance of an e-sanctuary where I could vent and feel better. I crafted well-written sentences that explained a great deal, in which I opened up and poured out the thoughts in my mind and heart.

Well, OK. You know me better than to believe that. But I opened up more than I usually do.

And then, as I clicked "Post," you turned your back on me and crashed. Again.

Baby, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I won't bitch to you again. I didn't think you'd mind.

Please forgive me.

XOXOXO,
V.

"Have you made your wish today?"

status check - Feisty
background ambiance - Badly Drawn Boy, "A Minor Incident"

I'm in a love/hate kind of mood today. Blame it on the fact that I was up before bloody daybreak. Or laugh and be amused because I was up before daybreak. Let's be honest, I don't really care either or today.

Anyway, I've wound up viewing much of the day's events as either good or bad. A series of pros and cons in my mind, worthy of either kudos or curses. A sampling:

Kudos
- Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. Thank you java gods for coffee.
- Elliott Smith for "Figure 8." I wrapped the songs around me like a much-loved blanket as I drove through the cold. I always abandon the album for too long, then pick it up again and love it like a long-lost friend.
- Beth for making me laugh and sing along to her amusing renditions of songs when I got home this morning. And, later, coffee (have you noticed a trend for the day?).
- Ryan Montbleau, for giving me a reason to make sure I stopped by Pure Pop to pick up a ticket for St. Patrick's Day revels.
- Badly Drawn Boy, for "Have You Fed the Fish?" I've meant to buy the album for, well, two and a half years now. Didn't until today. A brilliantly chaotic blend of Brit-pop, classic rock and flatout insanity. Kudos on top of kudos for "You Were Right" and the Jeff Buckley shoutout. Particularly in the bootleg version that came with the album.
- High school actors, for making me laugh.

Curses
- My alarm. For going off at 5:15 a.m., 5:25 a.m. and 5:35 a.m. I hate you.
- Mother Nature for this snowy hell.
- John Mayer, for "Daughters." Particularly when I had to hear it on the radio first thing this morning.
- Beth, for getting those songs stuck in my head during the one times I didn't want them there.
- Pure Pop/Higher Ground for playing upon the CD weakness I share with so many others. Go in to buy a single ticket, walk out with music. I'm a sucker for it every damn time.

For an amusing time, try calling me tonight. I feel sleep enough now - odds are good I sound either absurdly wired, loopy or half-asleep by 9! What fun!

Red light means photo is being ta-*snap*

status check - Amused
background ambiance - Michael Jackson, "Thriller" (I explain)

Because Blogger has been acting up lately and the posts didn't work the first time I tried posting them (last week and yesterday, respectively).

I think this is absolutely brilliant. Demonstrative of a real overabundance of time on one's hands, but brilliant nevertheless.

Who knew? Apparently not I...I just reeeeally wanted to use one and never had before.

(Wow, that sounds quite perplexing if you have no idea of the context, eh? Unintentional, but amusing, so I'll keep it that way.)

Snow blows

status check - Disgruntled
background ambiance - matchbox twenty, "Long Day"

The bus starts to cross in front of you the moment you realize your brakes aren't, well, stopping your car.

First tap on the breaks, then finally press them to the floor. You can feel them trying...but the car's still MOVING...and the bus is still CROSSING...

And you start to put your hand on your gear shift to jam it into park. A slightly screwed-up transmission is better than the front of your car in the side of a bus...

And finally, right before you slam it into park, your car stumbles to a stop. Bus passes by no problem. And you have a few moments at the red light to start breathing again. Not to mention curse the snow, your car, Vermont, the fact that you woke up this morning and that you don't get snow days anymore.

I loathe thee, damn winter...

---------------
In other, non-griping news. I've been listening to a lot of matchbox twenty lately. I know, I'm as surprised as you are, as I never really listened to the band other than singing along to singles on the radio. Never had a problem with it, just never went nuts over them...but Beth let me borrow a copy of "Yourself Or Someone Like You" and I've been listening to it regularly ever since - capped with yesterday's blare-and-sing-along-while-driving "Long Day." I don't know, sometimes I think songs, even those that have been out for years, are supposed to find you at certain times. Or something.

Call it "Ryan Montbleau, Take Two." Or four, I should say, but that doesn't rhyme. Adding to my list of upcoming concerts RM's Paradise show in March. Yes, the one two days after Higher Ground. What can I say, I'm a sucker for a roadtrip. And it'll be fun to see him with my Boston concert partner in crime. Again.

And, to file under "Notes to Self", Higher Ground shows: M. Ward 4.13 (the day after Tori...hmm), Carbon Leaf 4.27.

...

status check - Random
background ambiance - Ani, "Company"

***incoherence follows***

what's the point
of all this pointless proximity
if you won't talk
take me for a walk
through a little story

he claims to wear his heart on his sleeve
but it must be some other shirt
that he often leaves at home
because i'm unable to decipher
the textures and the cut.

I've been playing around today. I've a bittersweet little story developing, one that kept me up too late last night as I reminisced. I followed my younger self through birthdays and random Wednesdays, with a stop at a summer afternoon and a slow stroll through a weekend in May. For the first time, the memories were clearly sepia-toned, with well-worn edges.

I focused on a moment's realization, the instant I knew that I could finally file away the experiences under "Complete." I can, if I choose to, forget them now, as they're captured and recanted on the page.

I won't, but now I know I have the option. Which makes for an unconventionally happy ending.

As this story ends, another remains stuck, exasperating and as wrapped up in context as before...

Letter home.

status check - amused
background ambiance - Ani, "Swing" (can't stop listening...)

To: Dad
From: V
Subject: Photos
(Attachment: Photobooth2.jpg)

Right before the top photo, we looked at each other
and said we should take a nice picture for Mom and
Dad.

After the other three, we realized at least you'd have
one picture you could look at without rolling your
eyes, wondering where you went wrong.

Love,
V

Aurgh.

status check - Frustrated
background ambiance - Beth singing "The Bones Underneath"

I hate that I wind up just saying "It's good to see you" when there's so many other things I should say and don't.

But anyway. The weekend was grand. So enjoyable, actually, that I feel like I stumbled into a three-day weekend somewhere along the way. How can one actually be able to relax a bit in Manchester, Boston and Burlington during a Friday and Saturday? Perhaps the day moved into Sunday while Beth, Tom and I were laughing in the photo booth (yes, I finally reached the photo booth. Huzzah! Photos on myspace!).

Tired? Yes, my body's dragging today, after several days of what Beth referred to as our return to collegiate living (read: packing in too much into a short span of time, fatigue be damned). But worthwhile? Yep.

Granted, I've never run a soundboard for an actual concert. But I ran one for theater musicals and "Shakespeare set to rock, Puck's a rockstar" Midsummer. So I was feeling for Tides, Meet the Day and Suddenease on Friday night. The bands did the best they could, considering that their sets turned into glorified soundchecks with a few songs at the end. Beth had never seen Tides before - I told her we'd have to make the trip down for a headlining show soon.

The four of us noticed a guy standing partway across the room from us. Michelle said he looked like Oliver Hudson. Beth, Jared Leto. Nope, I thought Jeff Buckley, with just enough Lars thrown in to make me do a doubletake.

Laughing with A. was great - that alone was worth the trip.

The sound woes ended when Averi took the stage, as the band has its own sound technician. Great performance, a lot of fun. There was a group of underage fans that stood on the house left side of the crowd screaming along every single word - it added this level of adoration to the crowd that left me amazed on several occasions. Rather surreal.

But back to the performance. Everyone stepped it up. I've really been enjoying the added complexity to Matt's drum parts in the new music, while Stuart's guitar work always leaves me more impressed. Chris was doing particularly well considering the birthday celebration on hand, while Michael was the best I've seen him for about a year, in terms of both performance and health. The newly-shorn Chad did incredibly well. His voice was right on and he, like everyone else, seemed to be having a fabulous time. I don't know, it just felt good to see him laughing and enjoying the experience. And yes, I did dig the haircut.

"This Liminal Life" appears to have disappeared for the time being, much to our chagrin, but I'm enjoying the live interpretations of the new music...although there's something that just makes me grin hearing an older tune, whether it's "Flutter" or "The Bones Underneath."

It's just such a unique experience unto itself, attending an Averi show. The music, the people, the backstory all comes together to form this inexplicable thing that I'm still trying to sort through.*

But it was fun to dance around, and sing a bit...

"Don't you wish you could take a pill and get into someone else's head?"

Yes.
------------------------

*Beth walked by during the writing of this post and laughed at the grimace on my face. "Having a hard time writing?"

"Yes. Don't know what to say."

"You're thinking too much."

Exasperated laugh. "I KNOW!"

Up, at 'em, whatever

status check - No fatigue, no coffee (???)
background ambiance - Silence

Woke up this morning, stretched out lazily and looked out the window to see sunshine glinting off the bit of ocean view this apartment provides. I felt like I'd slept in for hours...until I looked at the clock and saw that it was about 7 a.m.

Forced myself to go back to sleep. A course of action that will, more often than not, guarantee myself that I'll oversleep if I have any plans that day. Once I try telling myself that I haven't gotten enough rest, my gullible body falls for it and then some.

So then? Woke up again feeling refreshed. Stretch, look at ocean - same as before. Clock. 8:32.

Decided to just stop fighting it and wake up. Thus ignoring falling asleep at 4 a.m., the honks of backed-up traffic on Congress in the middle of the night and a nearly very unfortunate incident involving a very large truck and an unexpected right-hand turn (note: "nearly very unfortunate." perfect driving record continues). And of course the random guy walking from car to car to talk during the jam (the Bostonian version of Michael Stipe circa "Everybody Hurts"? I didn't wait around to find out).

Recap of the inaugural foray to Milly's to follow at a point when I'm actually confident in my ability to make sense. Til then, Boston...

The angel and the devil on your shoulder

status check - Conscious
background ambiance - Martin Sexton, "Caught in the Rain"

I didn't know what to expect with Martin Sexton's set last night, but was trusting the my instincts that it would be a good show.

I felt the urge to bust into a Charleston. I was impressed with the latest gadgets designed to make a solo performer sound more like a full band (more on this shortly). I sang along to the audience supplied choruses while Martin's melody rose and dipped his melodies. I laughingly sang along to "Purple Rain."

All in all? Good times.

Martin set up two microphones for his performance. One for the normal vocals, the other for the electric guitar. A vocal electric guitar, that is. I couldn't see the stage floor to note any pedals, but perhaps there was a filter or it was a special mic? Regardless, he stood at the microphone, opened his mouth - and the wail of an electric surged through the speakers. A little trippy, very cool. I was already impressed by his vocals before - he has a lovely normal singing voice, but also can contort his sound to replicate the sound of a harmonica or trumpet (reminded me of Raul Midon in that respect).

It was just quite the cool experience. And I got to hear "Way I Am." Added bonus.

But now. One more day before the absurd week comes to a close. Rewarding myself for surviving everything with Averi and Tides tonight in Manchester.

It works out well, though, because I don't want to entirely sleep away my weekend...and I've almost reached a point where I can't stop moving for fear of completely shutting down. I want to do everything I want to do and not have to worry about feeling tired...and it feels like I've reached my sixth wind. Gogogo all week long...

Please dumb blind kind sir
Lend little Miss Listless a little bit of Christmas

Methinks not.

status check - Annoyed
background ambiance - Bushwalla, "Jesus Bo Beezus"

TD Banknorth Garden.
TD Banknorth Garden.
TD Banknorth Garden.

Getting the name down so I remember it in its entirety. Because there's no way I'm going to refer to the FleetCenter building just as "the Garden."

Ever.