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.