It’s strange how years later, I still sometimes expect to see my Dad. There are lots of reminders, here and there – pictures of him in my screensaver, his voice on my mother’s answering machine – I was cleaning out my crate-o-rob yesterday and going through old letters and there were a few from him in there. Sometimes I click on the wrong folder in my email inbox and end up with tonnes of his words…
I think I had a dream with him in it last night, or something. I’ve had trouble distinguishing my dreams from real memories ever since high school – only the more bizarre ones get eliminated out of hand – if the world still exists that generally rules out the majority of them, or some reminder that there are no dinosaurs wandering around the suburbs, or for that matter simply waking up with all my limbs – but there are a LOT of them which are just happenings… gigs, conversations, things that fall into my head as memories and don’t get sorted out as dreams withot further examination. Sometimes I don’t even remember the dream – like now – I just have the weird feeling like I’ve talked to my father recently.
It’s too much time in the basement, perhaps.
There’s good things afoot – after the New Deal Cafe Benefit I’m looking at using that kind of evening, indoor festival for another show in November and it looks like they’re going to allow it. Heather and I officially have complete dominion over next year’s 8.13 Festival at College Perk next year (and even have the tentative go-ahead to court BIG acts like the Violent Femmes or Jimmie’s Chicken Shack… any requests?). Java Mammas has decided to KEEP my open mic running past August, so I’ll be turning it over to Ashraf Dawod while we’re away and he’ll keep it alive. The new CDs have arrived and they look beautiful… we even have a volunteer truck at our disposal for our next big Trip with Rowan…
Life’ll be great as long as gas prices continue to drop… yup, Life’s okay.
