In which it is back to the grind

Someone out there has pictures of my band at the gig Friday night, but until I get them, I will draw you a word picture, as that is way more fun. It's more fun to use your imagination, right?

Ah, forget it. I'll wait for the pictures, but suffice it to say, it was without hyperbole the most spectacular display of brilliance since the invention of the Sun.

Even my coworker Melvin, known for his apostolic devotion to obscure jazz recordings and solitude, came out for the show. He just now veered by my desk to say hello, and while shuffling through some papers, said, "Well, I'll never be able to look at you the same way again." That seems like a comment one might make to a girl who's exited a public bathroom with her skirt tucked into the back of her stockings, but I'll look on the bright side, and take it as a compliment.

Yes, a beautiful, beautiful compliment that I will lump in with the compliments received that night from the big drunk guy in the plaid shirt who wanted me to come see his band, and the girl in the police hat who followed me around telling me I was "hott." These are memories to treasure. Someday when my rock and roll lifestyle is coming to a close, I will sit back in my lawn chair, sip wistfully from the 40 of Miller High Life warming in its brown paper bag, and look out through the vertical blinds at the sweet old world outside, wondering where my disability check is.

But for today, it's back to the salt mines, where "salt" is paper, and "mines" are my second-floor office with a view of the luxury condominium complex across the street. Somehow, I'll endure.



Star of the day. . .Mose Allison
posted @ 9:55 a.m. on November 06, 2006 before | after

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She lay awake all night,

zzzzzzzzzzz......