My favorite form of punctuation is the ellipse. Because so...much can happen betwixt those three little dots...
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Running to the barn
We used to take the horses for these long trail rides. Usually it was Dad and the girls, a couple or all of us. Mom chose to stay in the empty house and get some work done in the quiet. Sometimes she'd come with us as well, but usually she'd stay in and do laundry or something in peace. Or she'd go to the big empty church and practice playing the organ.
We'd usually go on Saturdays.
We'd saddle up the horses, Dad, The Big E, Dr. J and I and then off we'd go, leather creaking, tails swishing, to the back fields. The man who owned those back fields was nice enough to give us permission to go on trail rides back there.
Sometimes we'd try new places.
Sometimes we'd talk or sing songs. There were always moments where no one had anything to say though. Swishing, creaking, insects and sun, the smell of Tennessee dry grass and horse. Big sweaty horse smell moving beneath us.
I had this little pony that was brown with a black mane and tail. She was old and sway backed. Dr. J's horse was white. Sugar. We didn't name her. Maybe we would have come up with something more creative. Maybe not. The Big E was tiny and she'd ride the biggest horse, her feet not even reaching the stirrups. Dad would ride our sturdiest horse and he had this way of sitting there... We'd make fun of him, the Dad horse riding posture. He'd hold the reins with his left hand up and dapper and he'd put his right hand on his hip all half akimbo and just sort of strut right along with the horse like he owned the whole of the country. He had nice hats too.
Whenever we'd get to that curve in the road though, that curve where you could just barely see the barn up the hill, our horses would take off. And I mean take off, at a gallop. They'd be lazy old horses all day taking their time, but as soon as they saw that barn and knew it meant they'd get those saddles off, get brushed, get some sweet feed and a nap? It was like someone was shooting at us. Bam! There was no controlling them.
It was terrifying, that moment. The realization that this is a giant beast that you are riding, with a brain of its own. They wouldn't listen to their reins, they'd buck and gallop.
It was also extremely exciting. You'd just have to hold on. What else could you do? You had to just hold on.
Then screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech they'd come full stop at the hitching post by the barn as if nothing just happened.
We'd be all frazzled and scared, hearts beating in our chests, shaking our heads. The Big E would just be grinning, ready to do it all over again.
I still remember what that fear felt like though... When the horses would take off for the barn and we just had to hang on with all our might.
Sentence of the Day 9/25
"Have you met Lipstick Larry?"
Labels: sentence
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Sentence of the Day 9/24
"I love old Russian men!"
Labels: sentence
Monday, September 24, 2007
Vivisection
i
Chapped
hoarse from sea screams
choking on salt
barnacles clinging below
like so many broken teeth
ii
I stumbled to the end of the pier
Cuddy, Catalina & Chaparral
Made fast to their cleats
iii
I remember sneaking
onto his father's
sailboat that night
on the lake in Vermont
The sense of criminal activity
breaking and entering
I wouldn't let him touch me.
There was no moon
no sail
only stars
and the rhythm of lapping water
iv
Her hands on the wheel
My hands on hers
Our bodies entwined
Our pulses synchronized
v
row row row
your
USS Constitution
gently...
vi
A single Constellation reflected in the water
All but lost among the crests and troughs
The stack of an oiler breeches the horizon
Warm comfort of isolation
Is shattered like glass
vii
(Anchored)
The tattoo on his bicep said just
"Mary"
It was surrounded by
Nautical theme, framed
by the chain of an anchor
I asked, "Your wife?"
(I couldn't help it)
"No", he replied.
"My boat."
viii
The unforgiving sand burns my skin
Crossing the Atacama
Rainless for months
Yet I still feel the mist in my hair
ix
Pete and Repeat were in a
Pete and Repeat were in a
Pete and Repeat were in a
Potato
x
The daughter of a bosun's mate
Stands on her tiptoes
Staring over the rail
As the fleet returns
Anticipation pumps through her veins
Clutching a bear from her father's last return
xi
If the boat is a she
and she is a she
and you are you
does that make me the boat?
or her?
or a part of all three perhaps
Or maybe just a small part of you
xii
Her soft white skin lies uncovered in bed
Yet I toss my bowline as I bid farewell to the shore
xiii
A triangle
a crescent moon
a line connecting them
"boat"
---------
Dr. J is a professor of poetry. She sent me one of her latest assignments, to write a poem using Wallace Stevens' "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird" as a guide, but to pick your own subject. I decided that I wanted to do this assignment. Her class was supposed to work in groups. Since I didn't have a group, I commissioned a famous Internet personality who has chosen to remain anonymous. We worked independently and then weaved our stanzas together. I'll let you see if you can guess which are mine... Though I think we attempted much poetic device, I'm not sure how successful we were at encompassing everything. Still. I kind of like it. I'm extremely shy and nervous to see what our professor thinks...if she'll give us a passing grade. In any case, it was fun to think about.
Sentences of the Weekend
9/21
"So, if cast, you wouldn't have a problem going equity, right?"
9/22
"I was just wondering if you wanted to make, I mean hang out tonight."
9/23
"(The VOICE sits at a nearby table, drinking tea.)"
Friday, September 21, 2007
Drowning with Dad
I have really intense dreams about family. I love my family and would like to think that I have a very close relationship them. I'm not sure why my subconscious imposes these awful horribly evil and sad sad....just terrible situations on us.
I dream people die all the time.
I have these crazy sister dreams.
The most recent catastrophic family dream was a couple weeks ago.
This is what I remember of it.
My father and I were in a vehicle, a car. We were in a town in a part of the country I was unfamiliar with. It had just rained and we were driving on a freshly paved road. He was not speaking to me. My dog was in the back seat. My father was driving, I was in the passenger seat. He had this utter sense of desperation about him, just a sad sad weight. I knew it was best to keep silent. We came upon this long ramp of a wooden dock which lead to a lake. He skidded onto the ramp and instead of breaking, he pressed the accelerator. He looked at me and... That look on his face... It was one of giving up of being done of desperation. It was so very broken. And I knew... He was driving us into the lake. He was committing suicide. He was going to kill us all.
I somehow had the piece of mind to undo my safety belt and begin to roll down my window and my dog's so that we could escape.
We hit the water and began to sink. I was frantic, crying and scraping at the door handle. My dad sat calmly staring straight ahead, still buckled up, just welcoming death.
I woke up.
I still can't get that look on my father's face out of my head...
Sentence of the Day 9/20
"Well look at you Miss Curious Pants."
Labels: sentence
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Butt hole
I may as well talk about this here since I've been talking about it everywhere else on the Internet.
I'm just going to come out and say it.
I'm shy about my butt hole.
There.
I mean, it suits ME fine, but... Butt. Ha. This is when I'm most shy about it. You know how two people can pretend to be doggies when they participate in ... adult activity? Well. There's that moment before he (or she with a strap on) must... Aim, if you will. Must choose the correct hole and... I just get shy about my butt hole in that moment.
I fear it may be too fuzzy or bumpy or something. A few too many hard poos... Not that I have hemorrhoids, I just... And not like I have anything to compare it to, I don't watch much porn. Any at all, actually and...
My point is that I think it is a good thing to publicize ones insecurities in such a way in hopes that one could perhaps overcome them.
I'm sure my butt hole is fine. I doubt, in that moment of about to stick it in, the top dog (if you will) is paying much attention to my butt hole. Still...
I'm there on all fours and.... I get this Ren & Stimpy butt hole close up in my head and I just... kind of squinch my eyes together and hope that my butt hole won't turn them off.
I'm glad it's pink though, I certainly wouldn't want to participate in anal bleaching or anything. I'm fine with the hue.
Well, isn't this a nice place to share today? Yay. I'm sure there are parts of your body that you are shy about too. Feel free to tell us all about it. I'm not sure it will make you feel much better though, I'm afraid. In this moment? I'm a bit more shy about my butt hole than ever quite frankly.
Anyhow. Carry on.
Sentence of the Day 9/19
"He said he was gonna put us in their most popular site, it's B22 lake
side off of blueberry lane at the very end lot."
Labels: sentence
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
So, how did it go?
If you'll notice, I never tell you when I'm auditioning for things. I make this a habit in my personal life as well. I don't tell friends, family when I have an audition. You know why? Because, inevitably, people who care about me will ask, "So, how did it go?" Psst. Auditions don't often go well. It's true. It's a really horrible thing to put yourself through if you think about it. Over and over and over. You can't possibly be cast in everything you audition for. This question becomes disheartening. I've learned to just not talk about auditions and cut straight to the "Guess what! I got cast in a new play!" conversation. Everyone is happier this way. Less disappointment.
Still. It's nice to have a layer of subliminal support at times, I suppose...
All this to say that this coming weekend, I have an audition every single day. Not stressful at all. Some of these are more important than others. For fuck's sake, don't ask me how they went. I'll tell you if I get cast, trust me. Just... I don't know. Send me some kick ass energy this weekend or... Think fondly upon my confidence stream or... Yeah. Kick ass. Woo.
Sentence of the Day 9/18
"We are the anesthesiologists, so....We know the best anesthesia."
Labels: sentence
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Sentence of the day 9/17
"Occupation: Scientist"
Labels: sentence
Monday, September 17, 2007
Jasmine
I got this jasmine green tea last week when I was being juicy and not eating solid foods. I'm obsessed with it. I haven't had coffee in over a week. Me. A week without coffee. Coffee has always been my vice of choice. What's going on?
It's this tea, man. This tea is so good. I think I mostly like it for the aromatic qualities. It just SMELLS so damn good. MMm. Warm flower water. Tasty tasty.
Jasmine reminds me of when I was dating that drug dealer in high school. "Dating". We weren't dating. He had a girlfriend, actually. We were just fucking. His girlfriend lived on the hippie commune in Summertown though, so she was only really around on the weekends. She wore jasmine oil. He loved the stuff. I started wearing it.
The best part about dating a drug dealer, I mean fucking. The best part about fucking a drug dealer? Free weed.
He was so smart. Ryan Purcell. He was valedictorian, he didn't walk though, so the salutatorian had to make the speech. He was too busy selling drugs. Genius. That guy was a genius. He won all the academic team tournaments. We'd play these intense games of chess. And he loved him some jasmine.
We eventually put our infidelity to an end, all my friends at the farm didn't like me so much after that... I went off to college, came home for Thanksgiving, started asking around about Ryan. He was in prison. Got addicted to chrystal meth. Picked a hole in his scalp on the side of his head. He was such a smart kid too...
Sentences of the Weekendo
9/14
"She barks mostly out of solidarity."
9/15
"What smells so good, is that you? No. It must be me."
9/16
"I've met someone."
Labels: sentence
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Sentence of the Day 9/13
"for example. We will appreciate if you can link to our store as
URL: http://www.edenfantasys.com/vibrators/bullet-egg-vibrators/
Title: Bullet egg vibrators
We will reciprocate immediately with your desired text and description."
Labels: sentence
Let's go to the Movies
Do you know that I have not been to a movie at the movie theatre since December of 2006? How crazy is that? Now ask me how many plays I've seen in the past week. 3, I think. Well, if you count the one I'm seeing tonight.
Still. I should go to the movies sometime before 2008. I mean, I'd like to.
Sentence of the Day 9/12
"Happy New Year!"
Labels: sentence
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
The Rolls
I like thinking of roles like rolls. All buttery and warm and wrapping round you for a time. Like a little Plimco piggy in a blanket. Or maybe I'm just hungry.
Right! So! I'm doing this new play. It is a crazy crazy wild piece of theatre that when I read it, I just... Had no idea how anyone would do it. I wanted to see it though, see how people would figure it out. It's so bizarre. It's this mixed media, text on stage, spoken word, choreographed drug-induced dance numbers, sexual frenzy, mythological, dark dark ugly urban contraption. It's supposedly (loosely, very loosely) based on The Odyssey. It's fucked up and I love it.
I play the following in said fuckedupedness:
-A New York snooty snooty business lady/head of an advertising agency who has great lines such as, "Where's my chapeau?"
-A lesbian gynecological medical student (It says in the script that I get to wear a tool belt with stirrups and lube and stuff in it like a little gyno holster. Yay.)
-A massage therapist (Ha!)
-A crazy radio/club voice over thing
-The whole piece gets deconstructed at one point and all of the actors play parts of this woman's psychosis. I play one of those.
The lesbian medical student is the main role. And so it seems I'll be playing a lesbian and making out with beautiful women on stage yet again. Hm. What's up with that?
Oh and I just found out that I'm playing a 17-year-old ballerina at the hospital on Tuesday. Ha. Now who is going to believe that? Honestly. Oh well. At least I won't have to mourn my dead baby this time, though I still get to do that every other month or so.
And ho ho! I got a phone call yesterday from this lady who saw my big cattle call audition this summer and she wants me to come audition for her eerie evenings spooky spooky witch tour of a haunted mansion in an appropriately spooky coastal town. That's really special. I won't be auditioning for that one, but how nice! She thinks I have what it takes to be a witch. Yay.
I think that's it. Oh wait. I'm doing this fundraiser thing where I play ... Well, I don't know what I'm playing yet. The whole weekend is set up like a 48 hour film festival, only it's done with a play, so... We'll see.
And now you are up to speed on my rolls. MMM....tasty warm rolls.... And mashed potatoes. And pot roast and pancakes and warm solid food. Mmmm....
Sentence of the Day 9/11
"She's British, raises sheep, and married a shepherd man more than
twice her age who helped her kick her heroin addiction."
Labels: sentence
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
The Juicing
We interrupt your regularly scheduled programing to bring you the following public service announcement.
I'm juicing.
Juicy juicy me.
I am drinking nothing but juice for 3 days. It's a cleanse. Woo! I have now been doing this for 24 hours. I should win a prize.
I spent 44$ on juice. I had no idea it was possible to spend 44$ on juice, but it is. So far I've had blueberry B something smoothy and oh I'm allowing myself to drink some tea too, hot tea, herbal. So, I've had jasmine green tea and this carrot apple passion fruit bright orange shit and some yogi fasting tea and some mango tango fruitiness and I have some apple juice and some pomegranate stuff and some protein strawberry-ness and a citrus blend and... Yeah. So far so good. I'm not even all that hungry. I had a juice high yesterday afternoon where I just felt...good. I suppose all that sugar will do that to you.
Warning: If you have a history of diabetes in your family, approach doing The Juicing with caution.
I've been having de-tox headaches though which I'm not sure are from lack of coffee or lack of alcohol or hell, maybe just lack of food. Right to the left of my right eye on that eyebrow bone.
And another thing. I haven't pooped yet. What is up with that? I ate a big So-long-solid-food-for-3-days meal on Sunday night and where is it? This is supposed to be a cleanse. Where's my poo?
I'm doing this because I drink a lot of coffee and drink some alcohol and I want to wash that all from my system and have a clean slate sort of. Plus, I need to kick start my metabolism into doing something. I'm stuck. I eat really well and I run a mile a day and it's not doing anything, I've still been gaining weight because my body is used to it. That pisses me off. So, what? I start running two miles then three then four? Who has time for that? I don't. So, I'm trying the juicing.
I'm juicy.
Squish squish.
My brain, admittedly, seems to be working a bit differently. Yesterday evening I still had do be using my brain for work-type activity in a work-type environment and I had to really focus.
Juice. I like that word. Juice juice juice.
Juicy.
Now I'm going to sit here and think about what I'm going to have for breakfast Thursday morning. I'm thinking pancakes and sausages and coffee...
We now return to your regularly scheduled programing, already in progress.
SotD 9/10
"im sure your butthole is spectacular"
Labels: sentence
Monday, September 10, 2007
E for Effort
I'm done. I'm so done with dating. If I have to go on another first date, I may have to slit my wrists. I tried though. I made an effort. I had some time where I was just working 3 jobs and not rehearsing and I figured, you know what? I'm going to make an effort. I'm going to try. And so I did.
I asked my friend for his friend's phone number and got all aggressive and forward and called the dude up and was all, "let's hang out."
That went nowhere.
He was a 24-year-old frat kid. Also an actor. Well, improviser. Same difference. Haven't I said before that I will never date an actor again? Maybe this time it will work. I will never date an actor ever again.
The most memorable part of those few weeks and a couple dates was one morning after round 3 or 5 or so, we're talking and he says he'd like to be a dog. I say he seems much more reptilian than canine. I ask him what animal he thinks I would be. He says a sheep. I pushed him as hard as I could. A sheep. Then I start thinking about how he would never let me be on top. Image of Scottish man in kilt...fucking a sheep....and... I'm done. Get the hell out of my bed. That wasn't very nice.
Interesting, I saw him on Friday. I went out for drinks after work and I see him walk by the pub outside. He didn't see me. He really is pretty hot...
But, yeah. That didn't work so well with the keg parties and the drinking games (Umm...what if I just want to drink my drink because it tastes good? Does it have to be attached to a game?) And the girl sitting next to me on the couch saying, "You guys! You totally HAVE to come out and help me celebrate my 21st next week!" Yeah. Buh-bye. (If I'm to be honest, he hasn't called me. I haven't called him either, but still. I think it was his turn.)
This brings us to my second valiant attempt.
Sigh.
We'll call this episode, "Reasons why I should never date a massage therapist".
For whatever reason, I have issues with touch. I'm not a very touchy person. I mean, I can be, don't get me wrong. I hug and kiss my friends, some of my friends, when I greet them. But I'm the kind of person that has a very defined personal space. You know how some people will rest their hand on your arm if they're telling you something? Yeah. I hate that. I had a waiter touch me the other day and ask me what I wanted to order. What the hell? Why is that necessary?
That being said, I certainly have the one night stand down to an art.
But, OK. I go out with this massage therapist (my life is a Seinfeld episode) and he just really really wanted to touch me. It was very strange. I mean, that's what he does, I suppose, that's how he's used to living in the world and communicating with people, but... It started to freak me out.
The date started to go poorly when he said that he doesn't really like sports... Well, except figure skating. Oh dear. He said he was metro-sexual before there was that term. I suppose with all the nice lotions and such available at the spa...
So then, he had issues with parking and was having an anxiety attack and sure. Finding a parking spot is not that much fun in the city on a Saturday night, but it can be done. There's no need to have a breakdown over it.
Then he's all indecisive about what to order. Oh, he's a vegetarian, a fish eating vegetarian. He says to me, get this, he says to me that the reason he is so indecisive is because he has a lot of Gemini rising on his astrological chart.
Oh my god. Get me out of here.
He then proceeds to ask me throughout the evening, every 20 minutes or so, "So, this is fun, right? We're having a good time, right?" Ummm...dude. If you have to ask? The answer is no.
It was so painfully bad.
It gets better.
He mentions in passing that being a massage therapist is really the only thing he can do because of all of his learning disabilities. Maybe you should try not to mention your learning disabilities on the first date. Just a thought.
He asks me if he can hold my hand.
I did for a block and then he's like, let's sit on this bench.
Let me say to you that when I met him, he seemed much more together and like a very interesting person. It was like two different people. He even looked completely different. I guess he gets more massage work if he dresses like a dork with glasses and khakis. I like dorks. But apparently he's goth. Yes, a vegetarian goth massage therapist.
So, I say, umm...No. Let's just keep on walking. He says, let's sit. I sit. I keep looking the opposite direction just hoping he's not going to try to kiss me or something thinking how in the hell I'm going to end this date early and gracefully without hurting his feelings and why did I give him my address so that he could come pick me up why why why?
I eventually get him to get up and take me home, but it's early, like just 12:00. So, I invite him in for a glass of wine.
He sits on the couch. I sit opposite the coffee table on the floor. This pains him. He starts talking about how infants die if they're not touched. I'm all, you know? The more you talk about wanting to touch me, the more I pull away.
He finishes his wine.
He does not leave.
My dog approaches him and he literally cringes. I'm all, You don't like dogs? He then proceeds to pull this animal rights bull shit with me telling me that he doesn't really believe in kept animals, that all animals should run free. Seriously. He was trying to make me feel guilty for having a dog and a cat. I'm like, dude. Dogs are the smartest fucking animals evolutionarily speaking. They've become man's best friend. They are domesticated. They will last forever.
I can't believe he tried to make me feel guilty for having a fucking pet.
Then! Yes. It gets better. Then! He's all talking about himself (the whole time) and about how he did peyote once and opened his heart shakrah and my heart shakrah seems really blocked and blah blah blah and then he mentions poetry.
I think, poetry! I can talk about poetry. I start in with some poets I'm interested in and has he ever heard of such-and-so? He then says my sentence of the day, "Oh, I don't read poetry, I just write it." Ha. Those poems must be pretty good then, dude.
He still isn't leaving.
Then! He starts to freak out. He pet my dog (once). He rubbed his eyes. He then stated that he got "dog oil" in his eyes. Dog oil? He says, that dog's coats are oily. I say that my dog is fluffy and not so oily at all, I mean just as much as my hair is oily. He starts freaking out about the dog oil. He's rubbing his eyes frantically. I tell him to go rinse them out.
He does.
Still complaining about the dog oil.
This man is a freak. I thought he was perfect! 10 years older than me. Not an actor. Has a career... But apparently he is a freak.
I finally, at 2:30AM, get him off my sofa and out to his car. He still doesn't get it. He says as he's walking away, "This was fun! We should do it again sometime."
...
I just let that hang in the air for an appropriate amount of time...
Then I said, Have a good night.
Christ, what was with that guy? That was painful.
So, I'm done. I just don't think I'm very good at it. I don't have time for it. I'm better off alone. I have more fun when I go out with myself.
Oh well, at least I got a free dinner. Sushi. It was delicious.
I got cast in a new play, so it's not like I'm going to have time for this shit anymore anyhow.
I'll have to tell you about my new role(s).
Sentences of the Weekend
9/7
"Do you accept the role?"
9/8
"So, this is fun so far, right?"
9/9
"Oh, I don't read poetry, I just write it."
Labels: sentence
Friday, September 07, 2007
Sentence of the Day 9/6
"Random clown on the motorway."
Labels: sentence
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Romantic
Is it possible to be a pragmatist, a cynic and a romantic all at the same time? Or can one only juggle all three if they are an artist, if they twist everything into something that doesn't drive them crazy?
Sigh.
Sometimes I think I may be a hopeless romantic.
Not because I fall in love all the time. I've never been in love.
I want to believe though that there are people brave enough out there to make themselves that vulnerable, that open to that much pain. I want to believe that there can be that level of passion and connection and heartache and...
I listen to really depressing music all the time.
I don't know.
I think I respect it, people who fall in love, who allow themselves to. Because, going by the songs, it has the potential to hurt really fucking badly.
But how brave! What a beautiful risk. Because if it works, if it clicks... But does it ever? I mean, really. I guess they don't sing sad songs about that part though... And that's all I listen to. Sad sad songs.
I probably should have warned you about my week of catharsis. Last night was sad love songs night. Tonight I'm going to see the most depressing play of all time ever. The playwright killed herself after she wrote it.
Sorry. Hi. Welcome to my week of catharsis. We'll get back to the puppies and rainbows next week.
Questions of the Day 9/5
(sung)
"Do you cum?
Together ever with him?
And is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?
What about me?
Well I know I make you cry
And I know sometimes you wanna die
But do you really feel alive
Without me?"
Labels: sentence
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
In no particular order...
...a list of concerts I've attended
Carmen (This was my actual first and second concert)
Amy Grant
Three Dog Night
DC Talk
Lollapalooza 199....something which had
-Primus
-Alice in Chains
-Some other bands I forget
Lilith Fair which had
-Indigo Girls
-Sarah McLaughlin
-Jewel
-Some other bands I forget
Ziggy Marley
The Fugees
Cypress Hill
REM
Radio Head
Bon Jovi
Shudder to Think
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones
The Flaming Lips
Modest Mouse
Bob Dylan
Bob Dylan
Bob Dylan again
The Indigo Girls again
The Violent Femmes
311
No Doubt
George Clinton and the P-Funk All Stars
Willie Nelson
Sonic Youth
Beck
Medeski, Martin & Wood
Phish
Phish again
Phish a few more times (New Years Y2K in the Everglades. They played like 4 shows...)
Newport Jazz Festival
-Branford Marsalis
-Joshua Redmond
-Some other people I forget
They Might Be Giants
Tom Petty
Kiss
Aerosmith
The Sheila Divine
The Octopus Project
I'm not counting all the live jazz music I go to all the time or my friend's bands that have gigs, local shit. I'm not counting that.
I didn't really technically SEE Jimmy Buffet the other day technically... But I heard him. Kind of.
And tonight I am going to see Damien Rice.
Ha. That is hilarious to me. Absolute polar opposites, Damien Rice & Jimmy Buffet. It kind of makes my skin crawl to use them in the same sentence.
I know I'm forgetting some important ones...
Oh yeah.
Bela Fleck and the Flecktones
The Pixies
Ray LaMontagne
Sentence of the Day 9/4
"That’s like finding a two-toed sloth in Oregon."
Labels: sentence
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
The Buffet concert is totally not my scene, man
I am ashamed to admit that I have parrot head friends. They invited me to go tailgating with them before the concert on Sunday. I was like, dude. I don't really like Buffet all that much. I mean, I know enough to sing along to most of his songs, but no way am I paying for a ticket. They said the tailgating experience was the best part anyhow and I could just hang out during the show.
I thought, hm. Booze. Beautiful day. Excuse to wear a grass skirt in public. I've got nothing better to do. Why not?
I brought 3 kinds of chips and a giant bottle of coconut RUM! (Where I go, I hope there's RUM! doot doo doot doo doot doot. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know where I'm a gonna go when the volcano blows. Ba doot doot. That's my favorite one. It's so jaunty.)
My friend's beer belly was too big to be able to wear his velcro grass skirt, so I got to wear that too.
But, dude. That is totally not my scene.
Don't get me wrong! I enjoyed myself. I did! It was quite a unique experience. I ate the swordfish wrapped in prosciutto and the home made pumpkin bread (?) and I did shots off the ice luge with the best of them.
My friend made Sangria. Check out my novelty glass.
I mean, if that doesn't say "Good time" to you, I don't know what will.
But, dude. That is totally not my scene.
Thousands of drunk white people. Woo.
And something mysterious happened. As everyone stumbled off to the concert, I was left with these Buffet dregs who were just scary. Violent scary. My neighbors, all men in their late 30s/40s, started destroying things. They had this giant conference fold out table that they just demolished. They smashed about 10 of our neighbor's fold up chairs that were still out from tailgating. They broke glass into a giant pile that people later had to drive through to get out.
I was sitting in the mini-van witnessing this. Doot dee doot dee doo.
It was scary and violent.
I also got to see this girl, she couldn't have been more than 17, violently and horribly vomiting in between her parent's car and this other car, just... Alcohol poison-type vomiting. Her father, with his bushy grey mustache, stood over her and said, "That's right. Get it out. Grow up. It's time to grow the fuck up, Rachel. We are not missing this concert. Get it out. That's right. Grow up." She eventually stands, with vomit and drool smeared on her face, her sister gets under one arm, her mom under the other and with Daddy leading, they drag her off to the concert. Wow.
It was funny because people didn't expect anyone to be sitting in the front seat of a mini-van smoking a cigar, so they would walk right up, unzip, and start peeing. He hee. I see you.
People would have whole screaming conversations right next to me.
I did get to watch the moon rise over the parking lot. It was orange and large and beautiful. 
I could make out what song was being sung over at the concert if I listened hard enough. When he got to Margaritaville though, I got to hear loud and clear the sound of 60,000 drunken voices joined in song. That was really neat.
So much love and happiness in there and where I was in the parking lot, this animalistic destruction. Very strange.
What does that man have though? I mean, I wonder. He's doing something right, he has the recipe for fame down. 60,000 tickets at like a hundred bucks a ticket. A show this weekend, next weekend, I'm sure his whole tour is sold out, but let's be honest. Musically? There is nothing magnificent or noteworthy going on there. He may be a decent lyricist, but most of his songs are in the same key, and many of those are covers.
That is fame though. He has fame.
He just figured out how to appeal to the drunken upper middle class white people, I suppose. That sound. Music to get wasted and rip things apart to. Ding!
Dude. That was totally not my scene.
Sentences of the Labor Day Weekend Show
8/31
"It was all so delicious, Celia."
9/1 - YOU DECIDE!
Will it be...
A) "Do you ever feel like you're swimming in a sea of idiots?"
ii) "No. Turtle rot. That was the worst."
3) "It smelled like flowers and sewage, that's what it smelled like."
OR
f) "It's a common misconception that your limbs fall off with leprosy."
Please cast your votes in the comments. Choose wisely! This is the first day of the month sentence which holds special import for 2007 montages and such.
9/2
"Fins to the left. Fins to the right."
This is a Jimmy Buffet song. I always thought he was singing, "Dance to the left. Dance to the right and you're the only girl in town." I was mistaken apparently.
9/3
"You're a big girl, you can climb anything you want."
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