Friday night I met Alabracadabra and JS here. I think I like it better than The Dirty Truth. But of course, it's really far, so there's that. Ended the night back at the apartment (after several detours) with a strange gathering upstairs with the roommate, neighbors and several cats. You know.
Saturday night I found myself at Siobhlogger's watching her knitting needles fly along with Pregnantigoni's. They are truly amazing knitters. I am an amazing sitter. I read Martha Stewart Living and learned how to clean things I will never actually own or clean. I also tracked down a song S-bhan had heard on the radio, but could only remember a few lyrics. I am truly gifted at this. Seriously. I have proven it time and time again. Try me. I will win. Then we ate burritos! Delicious burritos.
Sunday morning, I had one of the strangest dreams that I can remember. If I already told you about it, skip to sunday night. If not, well, then... So, I'm on a tour bus packed with old high school friends and an assortment of Japanese people. We are touring the country performing in karaoke competitions. (As you might know, I am obsessed with karaoke, but rarely perform and when I do I am simultaneously awful and magnificent.) We arrive at a place somewhere near Chicago, I believe. I don't know why I believe this, but I do. We pile into the place and people start selecting songs. I have to go the restroom - where I manage to lock myself into a stall. Finally, after what seems like hours, I realized I can just slide underneath the door (why hadn't I thought of this before since I've actually had to do this? I dunno. It's a dream.). When I make my way to the stage area, I'm told there are only five minutes left and the only song that has not yet been sung is, you guessed it! "All I Want for Christmas" by Mariah Carey. So, I grab the mic and sing the crap out of the song. And win the competition! Yay! I'm holding the trophy thinking to myself, "you've never actually won anything like this! Things are looking up!" My eyes are closed, victory washing over me. Then, I open my eyes to the familiarity of my livingroom back in OK. A Fisher-Price microphone/tape recorder thingy is clutched in my hand. My parents are sitting on the couch. They say, "we think you're great." Yup. I woke up laughing.
Sunday night I happily found myself at the Calvin for Ray Lamontagne's show (thanks for organizing S!). Sadly, as much as I enjoy music, I have been to very few shows. (Here's the sad, sad list. Please don't laugh: Destiny's Child and Three Doors Down (drug there by college friends - at Rhodes), Counting Crows, Busta Rhymes, Pink, Andrew Bird, many assorted local bands, I have probably forgotten a few.) Most of the time, I find that the live performance is severely underwhelming. Andrew Bird completely surprised me, but Mr. Lamontagne definitely knocked my socks off. [Oh, there was the opening act, too. Tristan Prettyman. She was good as well. I think I've heard "Love, Love, Love" on the radio. She's kinda like a female Jack Johnson - I'm sure that's an original comparison. Whatever. I'm no music writer.] This guy is truly amazing. And by this guy, I mean his band too (not coincidentally, I now must learn how to play the steel guitar). I listen to his stuff on the radio (because I am the only ipodless person on the planet) and am sometimes tempted to download songs I don't recognize and I've always liked him, but after watching him perform, I am in love. First of all, he's got this rugged Maine/New Hampshire bearded recluse quality about him that I'm into right now.
see, ruggedly handsome. tortured. pensive. unavailable. my type. 
Secondly, he's an incredible vocalist. He sings the shit out of every song. Being the product of two musicians, I do not say this lightly. Finally, his lyrics are simultaneously heart wrenching and joyous (I actually teared up a few times. He effortlessly captures complex emotions without forcing the sentiment into needless rhymes or conventions). I wish I could say that his performance was my favorite thing about the evening, but that would actually have to go to the couple sitting behind me (second runner up: drunk lady next to me who kept telling me her son looked like the drummer).
Skeevy guy: "Hey, I live right around the corner. Let's get out of here, go back to my place, drink wine and I'll play you some Nick Drake."
Girl: "Yeah."
Me: Bangs head against back of seat in hopes of making them shut up.
The end. Except then I went to a birthday party (late) and everyone left as soon as I arrived. Awesome! Eh. What're you gonna do? Eat french fries with garlic aioli. That's what you do.
No comments:
Post a Comment