Kim's back! Woot!
Tomorrow is the Portland Marathon, the first leg of which runs right past my apartment. I'd watch, but as I said, it's the first leg. The middle and last legs are ever so much more entertaining. Guess why.
Them: Cat, you can't have a hangover. You don't drink.
Me: Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. And quit that damned racket or I'll rip your lungs out.
Opening for the band were a couple of starters: Sugarbeets and Jack Straw. We saw part of the Sugarbeets concert, and weren't impressed. Trying to figure out logistics for our way home, we were talking loudly over the sound of the band. Finally, I said: "Why don't we go talk in the lobby since they suck anyway!" The music stopped on "they." Once we stopped laughing (cackling, howling) over that, we schlepped to the lobby, and a few minutes later to the bar next door to avoid the rest of the openers. I heard Jack Straw was good.
But on to the main course: Clumsy Lovers. There was Ozark, Ireland, Jamaica, and South Africa to be heard in this high-energy quintet. Janie says they were a bit less perky than usual, but I was greatly impressed. Fine, fine musicianship and a show that kept me hopping for two solid hours. Only ten minutes of that was sway pace. Andrea Lewis is a standout on fiddle. Skilled and explosive, we watched her rip through a lot of bow strings. Trevor Rogers plays a mean acoustic lead, switching styles without switching guitars. He's easy on stage and makes a charismatic center. On the occasionally reggae banjo is Brad Gillard, a quiet, intense player who reminds me too damned much of an ex-boyfriend. I kept looking at him funny. Poor thing, it's not his fault. Rounding out the band is the dexterous bass of Chris Jonat and the dependable beat of Devin Rice. Because Janie and her friends are more or less groupies, we stood around with the band for a while after the show. Very pleasant bunch. From Stir It Up to Will The Circle Be Unbroken, this show was a helluva fun time.
Things to know about Portland: first in a series.
The world-famous Oregon Health & Sciences University is on a mount just southwest of the city. The school and attendant hospitals cover the entire area, and the natives call it Pill Hill.
The Net's First Enterprise Slashfic. For all you fans of the already-infamous lube scene.
I was in bed, mind wandering on my way to sleep, when I realized that I'll be 37 in a few days. I found myself choking back tears. I've never before been afraid to get older--in fact I've been pretty oblivious to the aging process, but over the last year I've become aware of my mortality. Aware to the point that I've been readying funeral arrangements and other details so my passing won't be a burden on those left behind. The problem: I don't want to die. There is no comforting afterlife dwelling in my psyche; it isn't part of my mythology. A further problem: I'm not sharing this life as fully as I want to. I want more people in my life. Friends are the mirrors that continue to carry our reflection after we're gone.
I shall now proceed to hug a cat and cry myself to sleep.
Star Trek has a long tradition of great theme songs. May I just take a moment to say the music for Enterprise IS ABSOLUTELY FUCKING AWFUL AND MUST GO AWAY! Good god! Great opening sequences, at least what I could see through my eye-crunching cringe. Fire, fire, FIRE somebody!
Okay, off to watch the rest of the show now.
Snif. Tonight will be the first time I've ever watched a Star Trek premier alone. Kel and I tried to get together, but we're carless and bussing home after 10pm is no fun. I have great memories of parties and friends associated with various premiers and finales. I'll have to do something to make tonight special.
Maybe an ice-cream cake and a gigolo.