I'm more than aware that recent blog entries have lately consisted of little save for blurry photographs (more to come), lists (ditto) and quoted poetry (absotively), though it is neither guilt nor a burst of newfound energy that has brought about tonight's scribbling.
no indeedy.
instead, credit (or blame) the prospect of an unhurried breath.
granted, I am supposed to leave town (not going far - don't worry) in less than eighteen hours and there are packing and dishwashing duties to perform.
but yea, verily, my head is untroubled (kind of).
because two fairly sizable pieces - one on the New York Dolls for Riverfront Times and one on a local lounge act for Village Voice - have been written, turned in and are now, I believe (I hope), mostly out of my hands. those pieces, as well as a lengthy Q and A with Chicago's Kill Hannah for New Times Broward-Palm Beach and a shorter one with New York Dolls drummer Brian Delaney (also for Riverfront Times, should appear before Thanksgiving is seven days gone.
and it's been a long, or at least involved, time coming.
I missed Robert Pollard's show at Bowery Ballroom a week ago Monday due to illness (exhaustion, workload) and soon thereafter Bob pulled a muscle and cancelled the rest of his dates.
I never really considered, at least seriously, attending New Found Glory's Tuesday show in town (despite a nice recent conversation with the band's Chad Gilbert).
on Wednesday, I re-interviewed Hidden Cameras leader Joel Gibb for an upcoming Cleveland Scene piece, ate a lovely dinner with my lovely spouse, then returned to the Bowery Ballroom for the most enjoyable show I've seen since Lambchop.
Thursday saw a return of illness (exhaustion, workload), so I skipped a Damien Rice showcase.
and Friday was just one of those days where it does not pay to get out of bed (of course, you never know until you, you know, get out of bed). so bad, in fact, that sometime before midnight, in the Union Square subway station (following the Robyn Hitchcock show at the Hiro Ballroom), I loudly stated my intention to quit writing about music (keep your ironic cheers to a minimum, please).
disappointment, embarassment, more disappointment, more.
Saturday was better: an ingestion of my last slab of Dreamland ribs (the perfect Christmas gift!), visitation with my friend Will during Auburn's 22-15 victory over Alabama, followed by Charles Bissell (Wrens), Bobby Bare Jr and Centro-Matic at the Mercury Lounge. a late night, but worth it.
this week, a medium-sized piece on the Pernice Brothers (that I'm not unhappy with) in Phoenix New Times.
last book read: Robert E. Lee by Roy Blount Jr (from the Penguin Lives series) (if I read a word of it outside the New York City subway system I'd be very much surprised)
oh yeah, and I started another blog - The Last Concert I Ever Saw - because what the world needs now is another blog, sweet blog.
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