Prunella Vulgaris's compendium, or: A companion for the ingenious of either sex. The newest experiments in japanning, to imitate the Indian way, plain and in speckles, rockwork, figures, &c. The art of persuming and beautifying. Divers receipts in physick and surgery, with many other useful things. To make enamel of divers colours for gold, silver, or other metals. To which are added, many curiosities, and rare secrets, known to few, but very profitable and pleasant.
The rain came strong and fast, long overdue and much needed. It's been dry for so long and even though I got drenched and my hair is snarly, it feels so good after being covered in grit on the diamond as the fake invasion of downtown happened and I tried to keep my dystopian opinions in check.Hard to when this is going on (image courtesy of the local paper).
Maybe I'm turning into Tipper Gore and hell I played with squirt guns as a kid, and we chased each other around the yard with sticks, because playing war was devoid of actual blood and implications and was just a way to get the blood moving and the adrenaline rushing, which is scary to think about. Because usually when I see kids handling such weaponry, it's somewhere else.
THAT'S COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. Sure, but why are you encouraging your kids to think this is fun and virtuous?
So after that, me and Queen of the Bondo went to the art fair at the end of the street where there wasn't too much going on, though we did find swankness at the vintage shop of 70's kitsch amazingness and found much to chortle about. I've always been a sucker for old thrift-store t-shirts with silkscreened graphics washed so many times they're amazingly comfortable, but since it's become more trendy in recent years, such things are way harder to come by. Got my dad a Ghoulardi mug for the tea he occasionally drinks so go me as far as Father's Day goes.
Went over to the parents' house for delicious foodage and wine-fueled conversation where strangely enough the factions split over Woody Allen films rather than politics, go figure. Also, I learned that my grandpa is amused by the antics of Pooty-Poot as much as yours truly. So that's where it comes from.
Someplace cool and subterranean, I wish there was something like that here. These were the kinds of things that fascinated me as a kid but I never knew how to find out more about them. Thank you Internets!
Tired like the rare jetlag, letting Randal and his lady love do the rocking for a change, because the need for sleep was paramount. One of my near and dears came over to the west side to hang out like old times, we walked along the lake, sat at a picnic table and ate ice cream, drove around listening to the tune below in search of fires, as we saw purple smoke rising over the horizon, and finding none, cruised the Flats as the sun set and came back to the apartment to drink tea and eat burritos and spit cherry pits into a dish and be amused by the antics of the cat. We don't have to say too much to be at ease, and there's something wonderfully comfortable about that.
Some shows are easy to go to by one's self, and tonight I had a ticket to see The Duke Spirit for the first time since I heard one of their songs on college radio, snagged the CD at the public library and while my initial reaction wasn't one of instant smittenness, Neptune has grown on me, and in the ensuing years has gotten regular rotation on the show and occasional spots on mix CDs due to the hooky tunes with big Sonic Youthy noise, a chug reminiscent of Queens of the Stone Age, and pre-Starship Grace Slick vocalizing.
I got there late and missed the first song but caught most of the good long set, which was mostly the toned-down newest record, the kind that one makes when one is trying to "mature" as an artist but ends up being not as immediate or interesting. Still, the songs sounded great live with extra crunchy guitars, a good sound mix and Leila's charisma and amazing vocals. I would have loved to hear "Dog Roses" or "Send a Little Love Token" but it was good enough that I really can't complain.
I wonder what the crowd would have been like if they were headlining and not opening for a rescheduled Battles, because it didn't seem like the crowd was terribly into it except a couple of adoring fanboys at the front and I ended up moving to the other side of the venue because the guys next to me were talking the whole time and making fun of them. Either I've got horrible taste or maybe the music was too accessible for the crowd. I'm not much for tuneish snobbery at this point.
I only watched about ten minutes of Battles' set because it was late and while the technical prowess is definitely there, my math rock days are kind of behind me at this point and I felt like I was more at an indie dance club party than a rock show, with the screens behind them with the disembodied vocals of Blonde Redhead's Kazu emoting on a video screen above the bouncing and bobbing kids. Interesting but it didn't move me, or I just wasn't in the mood. I'm also not a big keyboard/perky music person, and I was getting sleepy, so I drove home in order to get a little bit of sleep before another day.
On a particularly caffeinated night, I postulated to a couple of friends that being in a band is like being in a relationship, only there's sometimes more than two people and it's probably not romantic. I lapsed into incoherence shortly afterward, but I really think this is true.
There are expectations, differing degrees of give and take, investments of time and energy, some degree of inevitable emotional intimacy due to that whole expression of the soul thing, balances of power, and sometimes it clicks immediately and sometimes it takes awhile, and the duration is hard to ascertain. Is it a weekend warrior project or a summer fling, a gig on the side or a lifelong commitment? Does it fall apart due to incompatible personalities or tastes or differing expectations and desires? Do you stick it out because it's more economically feasible than severing those ties? Do you stay in it For The Kids?
I love music in countless forms, I love making music with other people, and I love hanging out with the male species, those two things being consistent life pleasures for the sheer intellectual stimulation and geeky camaraderie that most women around me aren't really into, but I've never been in a steady musical project or a serious relationship that lasted more than six months. Do I like the idea of said things better than being in them itself?
I feel like whenever it get past the just messing around with chord progressions in the basement or the extremely comfortable strictly platonic where we're admiring other things besides each other's eyes, I find myself looking for any exit out. It makes me feel trapped and obligated and a bit spooked. Maybe there's too many social expectations, or I don't feel like I'm taken seriously or that anything I say matters. I don't mind pushback, but I don't like being pushed to the side and taken for granted either. Maybe I don't want to play these songs in front of other people, that me and you don't have enough in common to really go anywhere, or that extra something just isn't there no matter how hard we try.
Maybe you want to move too fast, get too close too quickly, maybe you think I'm going to drop everything and practice three nights a week and gig on the weekends. Maybe the songs just aren't all that good, maybe you and me just aren't right for each other in that way and we can't get past our respective shortcomings. Can we just play music together for fun and make some noise? Can we just be friends? Is it just easier if it doesn't go anywhere per se?
I used to go along to get along and then realized I couldn't do that anymore, that it was easier to cut off things that weren't working before too much time and pent-up feelings piled up. It's easier to bail out before the other person makes plans or thinks things are heading towards a tour of the midwest or matrimony. I wonder if this makes me an awful person and a total flake to cut the losses so quickly over and over again. To leave before the acrimony gets too big.
So I brought this up to a fellow musician and dear friend with a couple extra years of wisdom on him in regards to the music thing, because we've both had our share of soured relationships and I don't want to go there. You just haven't found the right fit, he says, because we've been playing in the liturgical setting for five years now. It's not that you're not committed. It's just that it doesn't work all the time with everyone and it's better just to figure that out. I hope that he's right. I hope I find something that works someday somehow.
40 hour week, a window of evening time to do and be, played music with some good people last night, one of my friends is moving to Georgia so I've inherited the rest of his record collection, which includes all sorts of treasures from late 70's, early 80's England, lots of punk and pub rock as well as a sizable pile of Tom Waits for those hot summer nights of melancholy.
I've got tickets to see some bands tonight, and it's been awhile since I've seen anyone play, and there's a show tomorrow too just up the street. I vacillate between rugged individualism and wishing I had more traveling companions in the nearby vicinity who are up for such things even if these are in themselves not very interactive.
I feel like I've been gone every night this week, so I'm debating on whether to walk up the street for this tomorrow. Not enough caffeine, waking up in the middle of the night for no discernible reason, except for the smoke from the fires that have happened the last couple days, trying to figure out how to turn down and let down gracefully... inshallah for everything I guess...
