Rod Deacea at the West Side Cafe in Frederick, MD. When the owner of a venue steps forward and wants to be your opening act, you have a grand old time letting him!
Thunderstorms leave me in a state of emotional black and white – up and down and half-frenzy half-depression. Running around and soaking to the skin and driving far too fast through puddles that are far too deep. Remembering myself and slowing down, hearing sirens down the street and hearing syrens in my head and speeding right the fuck back up again. I love watching them, feeling them and hearing them and my body’s buzzing with the wish to be sharing them with someone, with fingertip pressure and cold water pressure and sudden sodden weighted raindrops careening down through strobe-lit skies. Maybe bark against the back and soil on the skin and slicked back hair and half-blinded, half-drowned and half-drowned-out cries.
Tempting fate by sitting on Dave’s chair. Slowly lowering my bottom onto the chair, I enjoy creating chaos.
Rowan was here earlier, and we ran out and visited my bruise-fiend Amanda. She hates these things, marginal fear, methinks – we played Atari and they drank beer, and since I didn’t I slowly got better at the games by comparison. The rivers roared outside, replacing streets and lanes, and we drove back to Rowan’s at speed, chasing pedestrians up hills with rooster-tails of dirty water.
Braving the possibilities of thunderstorms and their visceral, electric over-stimulation, Heather and I headed out to the Bowie Old Town Grille in Old Town Bowie, MD. The host, Mark, was dynamic, energetic, and simply a lot of fun. It was sort of weird because both Mark (who then recognized the name “ilyAIMY” and got really enthusiastic) and the owner, Bob, approached me about playing “family-friendly music” when I came in. I guess I STILL look a little like a trouble-maker!
I didn’t catch their names, but they’re 17, excruciatingly talented and simply awesome bluegrass players. I think it was the mandolin player who really liked my case – the Cheetah seduces ALL!!!
Thunderstorms make me think too much and my head’s full of the past. Tired and tried and slowly being dried by the AC on high – I’ll be bundled in blankets tonight. It will be delicious and I’ll dream of the rage outside lifting me up and giving me gifts of passion and passage and wind and rain and Living very, very fast. And hopefully a rest.
Brennan at College Perk. I was taking a lot of pictures of him so he felt like he better do something useful and demonstrated the proper curling of cables. On the right – Dela Ravana at the College Perk in College Park, MD. I have no idea what the name means. I liked hanging with them before their set, but got really depressed halfway through their set and stepped out (no connection WITH th
eir set). In any case, their merch bitch is a boy and I liked poking him. In general, I was kind of down – Perk depresses me because I’m often there surrounded by
people who I either never knew very well or don’t know well anymore. I miss being a “regular” some place, and I miss the feeling of belonging. Tim and Sharif and Dan and everybody are part of something very special, and something that is sadly temporary. The open mic cults never last long, 2-3 years at best. Java Head -> College Perk has been one of the longest running scenes I’ve ever seen, but slowly people are moving and/or moving on, and I can see the beginnings of dissolution. It’s a natural evolution, but that doesn’t make it any less sad – and moreso it makes me miss the community that formed me – the Jahva House, with We’re About 9 and Cupajo and so many others, all gone their separate ways. I no longer have a home like that, and that’s why I get moody, manic, and try to be a part of things and then disappear again. What can I say? I’m a little bundle of angst.
