It's astounding. Time is fleeting. Madness takes it's toll.

No, wait, (remember, I'm always singing), I meant to say It's astounding, it's 11.41p and I've been dying to write for absolutely ages because I have so very much to say, but I. Just. Can't. Seem. To. Get. Started.

Is it the heat? Is it the extra vacation days? Here it is, Tuesday, and I still have to write about Saturday and I just am stalled like my Mom's Volkswagen.

Should I skip it and do Rate-a-Trailer™? There are, after all, trailers to rate. Several. Like, eight or something....nah.

So, Saturday. Watching Shawn Colvin with Tony and Patricia.

It was a beautiful day, though I missed most of the relentless, burning sun by being two hours later than they were, so I also thought that it was a nicer day. Sitting on the ground for four and a half hours, though, was hard on the old butt.

After Shawn Colvin finished her set, I stood and stretched, but then realized that if I didn't sit down soon, all I'd have would be the area that my feet were currently occupying, as the Billy Cult was encroaching with a vengeance.

We were a little worried that the Dreadful Standing people would be Dreadful and Standing right in front of us, but they Dreadfully Stood audience left, which blocked people who weren't us, and so I didn't give a shit. We had one lone Dreadful Stander, but this cute guy with a braid down to his ass made him sit by threatening to choke him with said braid (I can only assume) and my camera and myself had no impediments.

But for the girl with the pink ponytail and the fluffy ponytail holder in front of me, but sitting up straight got the fluff out of the shots. Man, I love shooting Billy. Some of these performers look exactly the same every minute, so you get a roll back and they are 36 identical pictures, but Billy's very animated and changing and he gestures alot between songs.

Here are two shots from 1996, one singing and one talking. We'll see if I've got anything good when I do the four rolls that I shot on Saturday.

The show was great. I wrote down a set list, but I don't feel like going through it. He was bandless, but for Ian McLagen ("I couldn't afford to bring the whole band this time, so it's just Bill and the Bloke instead of the Blokes."), but he really is doing the same show since 1998. I still like it, but it's time to shake it up and do different stuff.

On the other hand, the thing that I love about Billy is that he clearly has a whale of a time performing--he's not pretending, he's not walking through it. He's sung these songs a billion times, but he's either a great actor, or he just plain still digs singing them for us. It's the same with his Blokes (or Bloke, in this case), they really seem to like each other and have a gas playing.

The only quote I wrote down was when he picked an acoustic guitar, and he said "It'll all be folk from now on. Or rather, punk. Never trust a punk with an acoustic guitar, or 'splinters', as we refer to them in the profession."

Good Billy Bragg quotes are to be found here. It's two years ago, but they're still good quotes!

Afterwards, Tony and Patricia invited me to join them for dinner, so we went to this terrific southern place in the East Village. "Will everything be spicy?" I asked suspiciously, but was assured that there would be blandness a-go-go, if that was what was required.

Of course, those weren't his exact words, but it was four days ago and I'm improvising. Also, it's now 1.59a. Of course, it hasn't taken me more than two hours to write this, I have been doing everything to procrastinate in my repertoire, from reading other people's entries to taking a shower.

Anyway, the place, whose name I have forgotten, was absolutely kick-ass. It was decorated in Early Garage Sale, with surf music playing, and Patricia was desperately coveting a large picture of a kitty in a hat smoking a cigarette. "Embarrassingly enough, it would go perfectly with the decor in my apartment."

I had the ribs, though I was vaguely tempted by the crab cakes, but the ribs were glorious. And not too spicy, either. There is something so primal about eating ribs, you know? Like you just took down a mastodon and are buried up to your eyebrows in the animal. You really can't pretend that your food wasn't once alive when you eat ribs.

Sorry, vegetarians. Anyway, I ended up with so much sauce on my shirt, it was as though I had never eaten in public before. I'll bet the desserts were great as well, but I didn't dare to try one, as I likely would have exploded, thus ruining the picture of the kitty in a hat smoking a cigarette.

And that is more than enough of that. Fortunately, I have taken tomorrow off, so I can sleep in all I like, but I still should stop.

Don't forget to check out both swellerific Journals of the Week, Jen and Jen!

And where are all the people who want to trade mix tapes with me? Are you all on holiday?

God, I can't think of a question of the day! What will I do? Um, ribs? Billy Bragg? Staying up late? My brain has turned to mush. Okay, I just turned on the Food Channel, and Martha's on. How do you feel about Martha Stewart?

Listen, babes, desperate times.

And we're still talking about singing, the first concert we ever saw, guilty pleasures, our new favourite books, the nature of fame, scars, the vans (which has bizarrely morphed into a discussion of Dune), and still, and always, our big fat asses.

Today's horoscope:
It's normal to feel you don't have enough time for your work AND your relationship. Relax and give up guilt!

One year ago today:
What was she gonna say next, twenty-three skidoo?

* Yesterday / Index / This Month / Tomorrow *

E-Mail

Minty design by:
Beth!