Anniversaries

Wow, it's been over a year since I updated this thing. To whoever gave me a hug from Portugal, right back 'atcha! Sorry it took over a year to get there, I sent it media mail. Also I think it may have been postage due.

Anyways, this post isn't really about any sort of anniversary. As I write this I still haven't decided exactly what this post is going to be about. I could piss and moan about the female gender, but somehow it comes out sounding misogynistic even in my head.

I could piss and moan about how I'm broke as broke until next thursday, but that ones kind've a downer too.

Instead, I think I'll tell you about how I went to First Friday tonight and saw a really excellent band called the Sugar Thieves (WARNING: Goes to a MySpace Page). See I was feeling really pretty down. I finally got up the cojones to finally to ask this pretty girl from work to go see a movie with me. She works a different shift than I do, so I went down to my work and waited for her to get out. I waited and waited. I waited some more. Since I was getting kind've restless at this point I decided to do some waiting. Anyhow, about thirty minutes go by and no girl. During this interminable period of waiting I'm texting and calling just about my best friend ever because last time we met I bought the beer and I figure he owes me a few and won't mind spotting me. No answer. At this point, as you may imagine, I'm starting to feel a bit discouraged. So I hop on a train and head down to First Friday. It's early and people are still setting up boothes, doing sound checks, and wandering around aimlessly gawking at all these things. I'm supposed to be meeting some other friends down there, but they aren't due to show for another half an hour and when they do, they're about 45 minutes late. We wander around some, me trailing along behind them because I've already seen most of it. After about an hour or so they decide to take off and I decide to do likewise. It's hard to describe what I was feeling at that point. There's a special sort of loneliness that comes of being by yourself in a crowd of strangers who are all having a pretty good time. A sort of anxiousness mixed with adrenaline and pheremones. You walk through walls of people smiling, nodding, avoiding pamphleteers. I was definitely in a kind of funk when I heard the sweet bluesy sound of an R&B quintet. I wasn't in a hurry to go home. Nothing there except my bed, some food and intermittent internet access. So I stayed and I listened to the singers throatily regale us with their litany of woes. Entranced, I stood there and listened 'til their set was done. Then, we in the audience clapped and cheered and demanded one more song, with which they grudgingly obliged us. A hippy got up onstage and extolled us to give money to the band. If I had any I would've, but I didn't. I fealt a little bad about that, getting all that quality entertainment for free. Anyhow the music made me feel a little better. I'm not the only person whose alone and poor and hard up. If you have any disposable income you should seriously consider giving a portion to these people.

On reflection it's probably better I didn't meet that girl. Problem number one probably would've excaberated problem number two. In a wierd way they both sort of cancelled each other out, although in a way that was completely unsatisfactory to me. But I did get to hear some good music so things weren't as bad as they might've been.