can't sleep. clowns won't eat me, just can't sleep. man, life's been busy!
1) a certain rather full-of-himself rockabilly hipster -- really, anyone w/good sense -- should not plomp smugly down & start putting the movidas on rockabilly betties right after departing a bar crapper, accompanied by the waft of his own poop (pepe le pew is cute to us viewers, but he not only never gets the girl, but repulses her!); yes, i feel sorry for him, too, that this happened, but not that sorry! really: get a clue, fella!
2) road trips can be wonderful; hotels & diners are fun; gigs are gigs, some terrific, some good, some horrid; friends (amazingly) ever-grow in number & run true & deep; but the freeways of LA & orange county certainly reside in a lower circle of hell, & there's no place like home (lisa p reminded me to click my ruby slippers 3x when reciting that)...
3) during this latest swell, fun, exciting, exhausting week/end, i got to play music w/a very talented young man from up here on the mtn; w/karling & the atomics; & w/becky & my revenge friends (dearer to me all the time, as are the paxtons & karling & co), & eat at many great joints, most memorably a delicious anaheim french-vietnamese place. one of the best pts of traveling always is when i can drop in at my gym at some new place, but today i exercised so hard, i was reminded i'm probably getting a little long in the tooth to be kicking, squatting, punching, & burpying alongside the lithe 20-somethings... but MAN, it's fun! (not to mention the ego high of being able to keep up & even best many of them strength-wise);
4) then i read in runners' world about a 100-yr old marathoner (his time, 8:11; his training tip, "i watch where i am going") & remember if you don't use it, you lose it (feels like rigor mortis sets in when i skip working out for more than 2-3 days)... still, modification of form is in order to avoid the injuries that so commonly beset us middle-ageds. i need to ramp it down before i hurt myself AGAIN;
5) each of us have our opinions, & we live in a society that allows us the luxury of self-expression (refer to recent "louie" episode to laugh ruefully at us americans, so, so spoiled, relative to most everyplace else on earth). one of my fervent opinions (in the "who gives a crap" dept), for instance, is that men w/receding hairlines, extra girth, & strong hands are hot stuff. it's a face thing, too: angie & i were raised w/the most handsome father in the world, & unfortunately, we think therefore that handsome=solicitous & kind, since our father is, & "handsome but not soliticous & kind" men are not appropriately honoring their god-given gift of handsomeness & therefore, in my primitive book, are evil & to be punished (yikes! hope my attitude is softening as i age)... anyways, back to the pt: it's all relative!
a guy i know whom i find to be quite attractive flattered the crap out of me & told me, "you're so pretty," to which i replied, w/o thinking, "to YOU," & he shot back, "well, who else matters, dumbbell???" & i had to pause. yes, he was the one complimenting me... who else's opinion DID matter in that moment? and who was i to denigrate his kindness like that? i cannot deem his opinion to be wrong, even if i think i'd be prettier if i were taller, slimmer, younger, more anglo, more glamorous, whatever...
beauty is in the eye of the beholder. i must not insult the beholder, nor question his/her motives or sincerity... such things, yes, can't help but be broadly societal, but really are very personal, special, idiosyncratic, even sacred... i like what i like. you like what you like. we mustn't tell each other what to like or dislike. it's just disrespectful!
6) lastly, synchronicity just smacked me upside the melon. a friend asked what i thought of his new band's name. ignorant of the historical, local phrase he had chosen, i suggested other, similar names, thinking the name he'd picked sounded like a kids' band. i'm so smart. (didn't even think to look it up. what a scholar i am.)
yesterday as she drove w/me partway to the doll hut gig, cattie ness (aka "beaky") out of the blue starts telling me a story about the migrant workers in this valley, the ones who followed the harvests, naming them by the very phrase that will be my friend's band's name.
clonk! all of a sudden, it made sense: americana & bakersfield fetishists will go ape over this obscure reference. olen, i was ignorant when you kindly emailed me. you're a genius!
Labels: blablabla, cattie ness, driving, friends, insomnia, my ignorance, olen taylor, presumption, relationships