So I was going through some old emails, and I found this nugget, on the day Tim Russert passed away:
Me and ol’ Tim had a bit of a powwow this morning while he was on his way upstairs. We’re even stevens, baby. We shared a secret handshake that lasted at least seven minutes and included the watusi.
I still find this funny. I don’t know why.
Iron & Wine, originally uploaded by maceelaine.
On May 7th, Jenn and I headed over to the Swedish American Hall to see Iron & Wine.
This was more or less the perfect week day show. I love the SAH, full of space and light and seats. The show started at 7:30 with the Magic Leaves, who sound like a hippy jam band but were amazing. Mellow and harmonic, I’d definitely like to see them again. By the time they finished their set, we could still see the fading sun out the skylights.
Iron & Wine was engaging, hilarious, and an amazing musician. It takes a special person to be able to fill an entire stage solo. I didn’t even take my eyes off him the whole night. I was only partially familiar with his work, and now I am a certified fan.
Because I am old, I was truly excited that the show was done by ten. It gave me plenty of time to go home and relax and ruminate on the awesomeness.
If you’re interested in hearing the concert, you can purchase it for cheap HERE. Brilliant idea, by the way.
So before there was Tumblr, before there was LiveJournal, there was Diaryland. I joined in 1999, when the Internet was (for me) shiny and new and there was nowhere to leave comments. I kept the diary to semi-publicly air my dirty laundry, and to kvetch about things that weren’t working in my life, knowing that there was a limited audience of people who were reading it.
I’m not going to link to it here. Those industrious people who’ve known me a long time could probably go and find it, but I’m not sure it’s worth it. Because here’s the thing: it’s horrible. It’s the mopey ranting of a 21 year old who needed to vent somewhere and kill time working in the computer center of her college. Having rediscovered it recently, I read every single post and it depressed the hell out of me.
What struck me most was how many things I didn’t remember. Many of them dusted off long-stored feelings that hadn’t seen light of day for quite some time. And many seemed completely new to me, even though I lived them. And it was kind of shocking. I had to spend about two days processing everything I had read before I could even talk to anyone about it. And then I had to wonder: is any of it worth remembering? What good is it to dredge up fears, fights and feelings from ten years ago?
I don’t have any simple answers. Do you? How much do you remember?
I blame my clever friends. Leftie will be known as Hobo Leg from now on.
I love that wordpress keeps track of what search terms led people to my site. Here are a few of my favorites:
And my new favorite, just this week:
Beautiful. How did YOU get here?
I’ve been distracted and not posting. No one wants to hear about my colds nor my weird injuries, I’m sure, so I’ve just kept it to myself, using other, more appropriate venues for that kind of thing.
Sadly, in the meantime, I’ve gone to four shows and haven’t written a thing about them, so here’s a quick recap.
4th Show: Leslie and the Badgers, Band of Annuals, Or, the Whale at the Hotel Utah Saloon February 11th: I wanted to write a whole page about how much I liked Leslie and the Badgers. They are awesome and you should see them. Band of Annuals were good, but not what I was in the mood for. I couldn’t make it through Or, the Whale’s set, because I was dead on my feet, not because they weren’t good. In fact, I’d like to see them again (maybe earlier? or not on a school night? please?)
5th Show: Zappa Plays Zappa at El Rio Theater in Santa Cruz on March 4th: It was like seeing my childhood played live. It was wonderful going to a show with my sister and my father, who almost never goes out. I felt a little young and a lot female. The band was tight and amazing, and there’s not a bad seat in El Rio, seriously.
6th Show: Elvis Perkins in Deerland at Cafe du Nord on April 11th: Another late show that I couldn’t get through. I really enjoyed the music, though I probably would have liked even more had I been sitting down. Jenn and I wondered when we got so old.
7th Show: Spanish Harlem Orchestra at Roccopulco Supper Club on March 24th: This was the first time I had gone salsa dancing in public, and while terrified, I also had a really good time. There are some terrific dancers in SF; I am not (yet) one of them, though after this I feel compelled to become a better one. Salsa music is amazing live, and these are the guys to hear do it.
So what’s coming up? Nothing, so far! That’ll have to change soon. Who should we see next?
This, to me, is pure honesty poetry:
I’ve never believed there is only one right person for each of us but rather, as we learn, as we grow, we arrive at a platform and standing across it, is the person with whom we’re supposed to continue the trip.
This whole thing makes me weepy in the best way possible. Congratulations, Kevin and Cariwyl. Or as Trevor has dubbed you, Kevinwyl. I couldn’t be happier for you.
This morning, I had a dream of tiny golden keyboards hidden inside sewing machines. Your chat was instantly embroidered.
Last night I was heading to dinner with some friends in San Jose when both lanes of traffic slowed, then stopped. This was highly unusual for this area, so Jesse and I craned our necks to see what the hold up was. A scared looking dog was running back and forth across the lanes. I don’t know what breed, but she was smaller than knee height, with a coat like a Rhodesian Ridgeback. I pulled the car over and called to her, and she immediately ran over to us. Her only tag was for a rabies vaccination, but luckily there was a phone number on there, though not the owner’s. A very nice and helpful lady answered the phone, and found the owner, and gave him my phone number. Meanwhile, the dog was perfectly content to stand between us, my finger hooked through her collar. She was very sweet. The owner arrived no less than five minutes later. Evidently they’d been playing in the park when a boy used an air horn and scared the poor girl, and she bolted.
I’m so glad they were reunited, and that I had a part in it. And now that I have seen the perfect dog – seriously, the right kind of coat, the right size, good temperament, why didn’t I take a picture? – I will spend the rest of my life trying to find another dog just like this one. Damn.
Also, before I forget, this morning while in a rush to leave for work, Jack disappeared for a few minutes into your closet. He emerged, just as I was leaving, wearing one of your bras. He didn’t want to take it off. I threw it back in your closet.
I can’t stop picturing this and laughing.
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