is over, I need to give up caffeine.
I just drank an entire french press.
That was my breakfast.
a Rasputina show is a sort of comforting
Z a e i o u X a e i o u a zaa zae zai zao zau a xaa xae xai xao xau e zea zee zei zeo zeu e xea xee xei xeo xeu i zia zie zii zio ziu i xia xie xii xio xiu o zoa zoe zoi zoo zou o xoa xoe xoi xoo xou u zua zue zui zuo zuu u xua xue xui xuo xuu
the first time I saw Rasputina play was at Dante's
in 2004, during the crazy time
that had me wandering around Portland alone and confused
until I started sleeping on the SalutCouch,
which was the beginning of everything that is good about my life now
this is the same show where Brian Enigma met the woman he eventually married
but I didn't speak to anyone, that time, I had a kind of contempt for the crowd, actually
they were almost entirely the sort of stoic, stolid goth kids who suck all of the fun out of a room
monday's show was entirely different, in that respect. I found myself sandwiched between a former co-worker (be the good justin you once were!) and a guy I recognize as a friend of Seamus's who comes to the Sinfonietta (who, despite gray hair, was entirely rocking out to the cellos). Zeo was there, with a dramatic new haircut. There was a familiar, prim, gothy girl whose face I could not quite place (for a while I thought it might be Aria from the defunct Dutch House) that I now think might have been the waiter from Cup & Saucer. one of the Backspace baristas was there. Matteo and Shannon stopped to talk to me on the way out "I can't believe you're here alone! Where's [gesture]?)
(Shannon consistently uses this hand signal, instead of a name, that seems to mean anonamyst. or maybe it just means "shorty" . An approximation of 5'3" )
I did not see Antique Dress girl with her bearded boyfriend, who are the only people - besides me, and now Shannon - who seem to go to both Rasputina and Ginggang shows.
One thing never changes, though. Melora tells the same fucking joke, every time.
solfege mednafen jbofihe
are three names I need to be able to type,
but can never remember.
at the Vita Cafe, fixedd and my parents were talking loudly about things back in Alabama, when someone at the next table piped up: "Alabama! I'm from Alabama!"
My dad mistook her for another tourist, and tried to talk about the weather back there.
She was actually a refugee, like us, but - i think - from the Wren Dogget circle of yoga teachers (rather than the 20somethings-seeking-freedom group). and I think about them and I realize that something that we have in common is that we all passed through Mobile-- we are all Mobile Kids-- we have become mobile.
I have new shoes. You voted for 'em.
( new drawings, uneven quality )