going, gone

by sophie


Went alone to see Girls last night at Fitzgerald’s. It was beautifully rewarding. Every show I’ve seen at Fitzgerald’s has been so wonderful it makes me wonder if actually, I really just like going to see live music and miss doing so. When I worked at T.T. the Bear’s in Boston, live music wasn’t a question… hell, it wasn’t a question for the whole time that I lived ten blocks from Tom Johnston, because he spooned me out of my hermit cave to so many miraculous shows… I couldn’t begin to count the times. I always thought of seeing music as rigid in some way. Tom changed that – music was something to move into, something that was there all of the time. It wasn’t an isolated event. There was always a show to see, even if just for a little while. It was easier, of course, in Boston, and especially at T.T.’s. But so it goes. Last night was a good reminder.

I brought Christopher Owens Anne Carson’s Autobiography of Red because I can’t seem to stop giving it away to people who move me. He was very sweet and squeezed my hand. I want to say all sorts of things about him but I’ll post a song instead. Youtube won’t let me embed the thing, but the video is worth seeing.

I have some publications coming out next month that I’m happy about. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s spring break. Today I went to the ocean and to a nature preserve and sat in traffic and bought a laminated map of birds and saw and saw and saw and spoke very little, but I sang a lot while on the water, into the wind. I found a large vertebrae of something on the beach.

Take care of each other.

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