But I Really Didn't Want to . . .

Monday night. Concert.

Monday night. So I didn't really want to go. AND I was sick on Sunday. Spent the whole day in bed. Getting up only to procure liquids.

But it was Gogol Bordello . . . and they were sold out last time. And the free press loves them for some reason. So I had to go check it out. That and E2 made me.

And it was awesome. The energy of the crowd. The charisma of the performance. The fact that it is punk music with violin and accordion. Was incredible.

So you should go check them out. Their music doesn't sound like anyone else really.

And I'm really glad that E2 made me buy the tickets and go.

Maybe I'll have my Drinks in Here

As my friends roll their eyes.

Sometimes I like to find new places. My current obsession is to find a "book club" that is just far enough away from work that none of my students is my bus boy, none of my former students are my wait person, or worse, none of my former students are drinking . . . ur, um, "reading books" . . . at the table next to me, but close enough that my friends will come out. Most of my female friends live on the East Side, so it's just easier for them rather than hauling everything for book club out here. And yeah, I do live in the land of cool book clubs. But whatever, expanding my horizons.

So last night, I went to a place with the BEST bathrooms I have ever seen . . . in a book club. The paint was the same color I have in my office . . . there were real pocket doors to make up the stalls . . . there was very nice beadboard . . . and very excellent fixtures, considering the small space . . . very nice lighting, bright enough to see, yet not jarring . . . and very clean. Oh, and nice tile.

Very different from the usual bathroom experience, with the not so nice graffiti and the goo . . . or like, at the Front, which has both goo and graffiti and the extra added bonus of no sink, except for the one that is IN A STALL basically, so you have to wait for the person to get done to wash your hands. One should never wait until they really have to pee at the Front. Always go before . . . like a long car trip.

The Hardluck Lounge, in Grosse Pointe Park. I found parking. They have great bathrooms. There was a place to sit. The drinks were good . . .

I could bring Princess. And she could sit without putting down a napkin. And go to the bathroom. If they had wine, we could possibly live there.

So a good discovery, in my adventuring.

OMFG

So it started as an ordinary day . . . woke up to the phone ringing. Chatted with my mother. Showered. Got dressed. Made plans for tomorrow. Called my brother repeatedly. Finally got his count for the concert. Made sure the thing was all ages, because we are now bringing a 10 year old. (poor spider monkey, being exposed to all the wolves)

Drove done to the Majestic, because 3 dollars in gas is cheaper than the $4.25 a ticket service charge on the internet, especially when purchasing 7 tickets. Chat up the bartender. The show is not even close to sold out, so please come if you want. Ska Fest. December 29. Gangster Fun, Deals Gone Bad, The Exceptions and Mustard Plug (plus a few more bands at the beginning).

And then I see it.

It's orange. A flyer. That says "Matthew Good". As in THE Matthew Good? As in the only person that I am an excited starfucker about (sorry, mom). The Matthew Good that I would swoon if some of his sweat fell on me? The Matthew Good that I think, "God that guy is cute . . . he looks like Matthew Good"? Matthew Good, Canadian musician that no one has heard of and I have to go to Canada to buy his stuff . . . that Matthew Good?

The bartender didn't know, but I recognized his drawing on the flyer. So THAT MATTHEW GOOD. Is coming here. To this town. At the Magic Stick. To play his music. And I can buy tickets?

So I did. Bought tickets so early that the girl didn't even know if they would be on sale. Happy Birthday to me. Matthew Good in Detroit, March 18.

Now everyone will know where I will be. I might even go to Cleveland too.

And I'm very, very, very happy with this turn of events.

New Favorite

My city's still breathing (but barely it's true)
through buildings gone missing like teeth.
The sidewalks are watching me think about you,
all sparkled with broken glass.
I'm back with scars to show.
Back with the streets I know.
They never take me anywhere but here.

Those stains in the carpet,
this drink in my hand,
these strangers whose faces I know.
We meet here for our dress-rehearsal to say
"I wanted it this way"
and wait for the year to drown.
Spring forward,
fall back down.
I'm trying not to wonder where you are.

All this time
lingers, undefined.
Someone choose
who's left and who's leaving.

Memory will rust and erode into lists
of all that you gave me:
some matches, a blanket, this pain in my chest,
the best parts of Lonely,
duct-tape and soldered wires,
new words for old desires,
and every birthday card I threw away.

I wait in 4/4 time.
Count yellow highway lines
that you're relying on to lead you home

-- Left and Leaving, The Weakerthans

The Quay Brothers

I went to the most beautiful movie tonight. A collection of Quay Brothers' short films, my favorite of which was "Street of Crocodiles". The Quay boys were the inspiration for many of my favorite music videos, "Sober" and "Prison Sex" from Tool and I think "Closer" from Nine Inch Nails. (Closer video is NWS)

A really short, short Quay Brothers' film can be found here. And a video they did for His Name is Alive (evidently when he was big and had money?) can be found here. It has a bunny in it. (and I still don't like HNIA)

It is all stop animation and absolutely amazing.

Now two things to bitch about:

1. The program listed His Name is Alive as a British band . . . when HNIA is from Livonia. One would think that the people at the Detroit Institute of Arts could get that right. Especially when the first listing on google says "Michigan's finest".

2. The two guys behind me . . . one of them found all of the movies incredibly funny. A laugh riot. And NONE of the movies were funny. So laughing at the bunny. Laughing at the doll losing its' hands. I couldn't figure out if he just didn't understand the movies, if he was laughing nervously because the subjects made him uncomfortable, or if the guy next to him was just tickling him. Yes, that's how much he laughed.

Okay, one nice thing:

There was a couple, well into their seventies, if not their eighties, who were obviously on their first date. And that was really, really cute.
At the end of the first short:
"Well, what did you think of that?"
"I didn't understand a thing."
"Neither did I."
"Oh, well . . . then I don't feel so bad."

They were adorable. I just wanted to squeeze them both.

Goth

Is it too "old goth chick" of me to really want to see this movie?

Control

Shows I Want to See

I haven't been to the Magic Stick's website in some time and omg I'm going to be spending some time there this fall. May just have to claim my own stool.

Oct. 9 Voo Doo Glow Skulls
Oct. 22 I AM X (guy from Sneaker Pimps . . . very cool stuff)
Oct. 24 The Weakerthans (I don't care what I have to sell to get to that show . . . I will be there)
Dec. 1 Big D and the Kids Table (another must see for me)

This is before I've even looked/listened to any "new" (to me) music that I might want to explore. With the start of school, I haven't been actively seeking bands to go see. Thank goodness someone suggested seeing Matt Pond PA this weekend or I wouldn't have looked. (because I'm going to have to buy The Weakerthans and Big D tix now, to avoid the "sold out" bother)

And, of course, you are all welcome to join me.

Harry Potter

No, there won't be any spoiling.

As I sit here recovering from my good cry over a children's book at 2:26 a.m. I realize how lucky we are to be able to communicate through writing . . . and to have authors that inspire us. And that I am lucky. To be able to read and comprehend with the speed to finish a J.K. Rowling book over the course of basically six hours.

It was an excellent read. And it ended in a way that I am not reluctant that I finished. And although Ms. Rowling used very common themes -- the importance of love and friendship, the warning that one should not judge others . . . that often the good in a person will surprise you, that absolute power corrupts, and the power of faith and believing in oneself -- she manages to convey this in an often surprising and unique manner.

So true to form, I have finished the last Potter book in a day. It was a good as "Order of the Phoenix", which was my favorite. If you haven't read them (because of the resistance to the hype or perhaps because they are considered children's literature), please consider it.

And That's a Good Thing . . .

Not that Martha Stewart would endorse this . . .

Famous Dave's has Guinness for a dollar on Wednesday nights. That's ONE dollar. Cheaper than iced tea. And that, folks, is a really good thing.

Rained Out

I had a positively grand day, in spite of the rain . . . maybe because of it.

I had planned to do yard work, until it was done. Instead I got to read the paper with a half order of french toast. Then I went to the Berkley knit store (Have You Any Wool) and bought some pink, mindless knitting, yarn to make up for all the projects that I have ongoing, all in mohair for some reason. And mohair is like knitting with thread. It never seems like you make any progress. So I need a couple of hats under my belt to feel like I can accomplish something (a hat takes me a couple of days). So pink hats it is . . .

I then checked all the stores listed in the Free Press entertainment section last week, when they showcased Berkley shopping. Shoe store was good. Found some cute little red numbers . . . but didn't want to peak early, so didn't buy them. For $39 I might have to go back though. Went to the musical instrument store and asked about fixing my viola. Kicked around Catching Fireflies.

Then I drove to Birmingham. Figured I would to the run of yarn stores. But the B'ham yarn store wasn't open . . . because it is never open. Walked all over downtown, window shopping. Then drove to Plum Market.

Because I am genetically related to Mr. Crabbypants, I love to look at grocery stores. In a new town? Let's check out and see if they have different mustard. In France? Ooooh, look at the yogurt aisle. And because I grew up with the vacation tour of grocery stores, I didn't know it was weird. Likewise with my fascination with new ones. Comes from my father having a degree and obsessive love of marketing. So off to Plum Market I went. To look at the wine selection and to see what I could see.

Honestly, I give it a B-. Very pretty without much substance. Lots o' expensive stuff . . . most of it being soap. As much soap as coffee. The cashier bubbled at me about how they put all the produce in the walk-in refrigerator every night. I guess that is an impressive use of labor cost. And there was a lot of produce. All of it seemed to be organic. Impressive cheese aisle, but that may only be because some geeky guy in glasses was looking at me, so I spent a longer time there. I'm such a sucker for geeky and glasses . . . and I do like cheese.

So all in all, a good grocery store for pick ups . . . but I wouldn't really buy anything there. Well, actually I bought three different mint plants (for my herb garden, that doesn't exist yet) (because I want mojitos), a bottle of French wine (because I almost recognize the name) and some snotty raspberry-lime mineral water. I was out for under $20.

Then the Gap, because it was close. Then to Lowe's . . . but I got distracted by shoes (DSW is next door) but there weren't any shoes as cool as the ones I saw in Berkley. So I managed to piece together some flowers, which are now sitting on my porch, not in their containers. Lowe's had put all their good flowers in containers . . . but I have containers and contented myself with the fact that the crummy flowers would probably grow. After all, they are plants and my porch has really good sun. Now if it would just stop raining.

So didn't get anything done that I was planning to get done. And it was lovely.

Sugar Free Jello

I didn't buy tickets beforehand. Why? Didn't seem like the spoken word fest from the former lead singer of the Dead Kennedys would be sold out. Few people my age know who Jello Biafra is . . . and if you ask the young-uns, the people who go out and listen to things . . . well, you hear crickets.

"Oh, Dead Kennedys? Yeah, my dad listened to them." was the response from one of my students. Only one.

Quite frankly, the line was offputting. But they hadn't let anyone in. With or without tickets. Talked to a cosmetology student in line. Bought my ticket for twelve dollars. A dollar cheaper than they charged before the show. Sometimes it pays to be unorganized. A former student of mine was in line about four people behind me. It was nice to see him. Admonished him about not staying in school.

They did have t-shirts. One said "Vote Republican" with a large Nazi flag between the vote and the Republican. Shit. Digging through the memory banks. I thought Jello hated everyone. Now it's just Republicans? I bought a Guinness and waited to be outed. Sat in the back row. Corner seat. Visions of pitchforks.

Took a chance and spoke to someone I recognized from high school. Exchanged pleasantries. "Oh, yeah. I remember you." which was not remarkable, as we were in the same clique. "You were in a band once." I said to him. "Yeah, I'm with Cheilos tonight." he said. I don't remember anyone named Cheilos . . . of the friends that I remember that he had anyhow. "No. I'm with Jello." he corrected. How's that for name dropping? He walked away without any further clarification. Leaving me to wonder, was he with with Jello? Or was his band on the Alternative Tentacles label? Once I was informed, he seemed to think I was suitably impressed?

Waved at the people I knew were coming and then Jello was on stage, so talking seemed rude. All the photos of Jello, on his website, on the Majestic website, in the Free Press, seem to be from 1989. Jello now looks like Mr. Crabbypants. At least the guy on stage who said he was Jello does. And the ranting began.

Now I will say that the last time I saw Jello Biafra speak, I was much more to the left politically. And I will say, as pointed out frequently by my social studies friends, that my supposed "right" leanings now are more oppositional defiance than actual ideology. I work with a bunch of bleeding heart liberals. At least, they are the most vocal. And I did agree with some of the things Jello said. And didn't agree to others. And I listened attentively and clapped politely to the things I agreed with. Laughed at the things that I found funny, that were meant to be funny. And he dogged the Democratic party too . . . just not as much. And for the most part Jello made sense. For three hours.

At three hours, he said he was going to take a break. Which meant he was planning to come back. And I, quite frankly, couldn't do another three hours. So I left. Feeling slightly guilty. And old. But I was tired . . . and there is only so much Jello one can take in one sitting. Plus, with all the conspiracy theories thrown about, I'm sure the Republicans had inserted something into the back of my neck that was making me glow green. Or, more likely, my F.B.I. file was being added to just by being there. So I went home.

His speech did make me think. I should go check out the libertarians. See what they are up to. Or if they have an office. Or a secret handshake. And I am very much in favor of free speech. And most people aren't.

Never did figure out what "with Jello" meant. And from now on . . . there will only be pictures of me from 1992.

Totally Sucked in

This guy is hilarious . . . thanks for the link anonymous.

He reminds me of my brother, J.

I'm So Excited, I Might Do Something Drastic

Like cry.

Or hug someone.

December 29. At the Magic Stick. Mustard Plug. Parka Kings.

And Gangster Fun. Gangster Fun that I used to do security for? That Gangster Fun?

I'm sooooooo going . . . and you are all going with me. If only to put some cash in Dave's pockets so he can pay for those babies xmas presents.

No really. It's going to be a GREAT show. I'm sure of it.

F*ck yeah.

Psst . . . Hey You . . .

You should all go to Noel Night. Cool Stuff. Music. Dancing. General merriment. I once sold a tile or two there . . . once upon a time, during my only attempt at craft fair-ness. As I recall, I did most of my business in trade and got all my Christmas gifts that year.

I'll be going before I go out with Princess. Or perhaps I'll drag Princess, but we all know how she is so fond of the "D". Then again, I still have tickets to the Annie Leibovitz show so maybe that will be a big enough carrot.

So go. Say hello to Nancy (she'll be selling soap in the CCS alumni section). Don't tell her I sent you and maybe you'll get a deal. She does make pretty good soap, that Nancy.

Mom Should Be So Proud

Link is here. I'm sure I'm now on some watch list . . . and I'll never be able to run for office. But it wins for coolest thing I've seen all day.

Was sort of raised this way . . . except for when I asked to join the little league team and the hockey team. Then I was told that only boys did that . . . but I'm not sure if it was a gender issue, or a "don't want my kid's teeth knocked out of her head" move. Pretty sure if I had been a boy, my mother would have said something like "oh no, they only let girls on the hockey team". Or monkeys. Or filth. Whatever worked for her at the time.

Oh, there was that whole "girls don't call boys" lecture when I was a teenager, but I'm sure that was based completely in gender difference brain studies, with a smattering of "hunter vs. gatherer" anthropology. Right Mom? And she was pretty much right on that one anyhow.

And I never did have a Barbie or an Easy-Bake oven. As I understand it, it's just a box with a light bulb?

But Can I Pull Off Ashlee?

It's official . . . Halloween is coming. It's my favorite holiday and I want to savor it, which is why I have been ignoring the displays that have been up for months (okay, I have bought some new skeleton gloves, but that doesn't count . . . ) because . . . well . . . Halloween too soon cheapens things.

So this weekend M2 and I are supposed to find somewhat matching costumes . . . so we can go to her boyfriend's party. Best idea suggested so far, Ashlee and Jessica Simpson (when Ashlee had black hair). I suggested dominatrixes, but this is a predictable suggestion from me and not something that M2 would do. And I guess his family is invited, so we have to be good girls, or semi-good girls. Also, there was something about it being outside . . . "so no slutty costumes" for fear of being cold. So many rules. So we might do something Tim Burton-ey.

I am listening to Michael Bernard Loggins - The Fears of your Life (This American Life, Episode #234, March 14, 2003) and now want to write my own. It is awesome.

Good Stuff

Especially on the radio commercial . . . "STOP . . . MONKEY! THAT . . . TICKLES. . . STOP, STOP . . . MONKEY . . .OH THAT FEELS SO GOOD . . . NO, THAT FEELS BAD . . . MONKEY PLEASE." Or something like that.

Just push the red button, he's there for emotional support.

Now with less sarcasm?

"Well most of your blog was about how you didn't have a life . . . so now you have one." Having a life makes one very tired. And doesn't leave much time to write. And lately, I haven't had much that I want to write about . . . well, nothing that I want to tell the entire internet about anyhow. Perhaps I'm too happy to blog?

Okay, the new music obsession is The Dresden Dolls, which I bought on a whim (because it was less than nine dollars . . . and therefore "free"). I had checked their stuff out before, but I really like the new album. I'm teaching English 10 next year . . . thus climbing slightly out of the primordial ooze that is high school English. It's like I've grown little stumps and crawled up on the sand. Or grown lungs. I need to dye my hair. My neighbor tells me that I'm doing a "great job" . . . I'm not sure what he means, at being a single woman? at mowing my lawn? at being friendly to him? Anyhow, I'm doing a "great job" at something.

See? This is just boring . . . no enchanting sarcasm . . . I feel so blocked, or edited. (I'm doing all the editing myself, by the way) What was that Nirvana line again?

Now that Everyone is Sick of Hearing About France

Here is a bunny telling you the perils of not paying attention.

"Down with Whitey"

Ummm . . . yeah . . . this is hilarious.

The whole site is actually. My parents WISH they had thought of it.