on the ice cream dome

This hope has been realised in the most beautiful manner. But between the clear vision of this goal and its actual realisation it was necessary to surmount a serious difficulty, and as this lies deep at the root of things, I dare not withhold it from the reader. We require to extend our ideas of the space-time continuum still farther.

--from Relativity, by Albert Einstein, authorized translation by Robert W. Lawson

Cheers, my man. Just like life. I have a clear image of the ice cream cone in my mind, and it is beautiful. Now, to get through all the traffic lights and animals darting into the road on the way there.

Friday night I saw Sons & Daughters at Mercury Lounge. This was my third affair. Fortune put me up closer to the stage for the final two songs, which were great. Before that, I was pressed up against a wall, straining my calves and feet trying to keep on the tips of my toes so I could see. Seeing this band, in my opinion, makes all the difference. In a previous post, I referenced an Other Music review which described the interplay between Adele Bethel and Scott Paterson as erotically charged. Seeing the intensity on their faces, the tortuous ocean-flapping of Adele Bethel's arms and the sweat dripping down from Scott Paterson's fixed eyes, makes all the difference. While my left side pressed hard against the wall, my right side suffered reverberations from the offbeat clapping of a stocky fellow who also could not sing along in any way resembling tunefulness. Behind me two pretentious musician fucks talked loudly at the back of my head about meeting up to play together. Why don’t you go now, I thought. You’re not doing anything else besides depleting the value of my ticket. They looped like this: Uh, you know, uh, drop by any time, uh, yeah. Yeah. Anyway, turn off the bad porn and instead go see Sons & Daughters. You might bring a microphone and wrap its cord around your neck as you're climaxing. If you're one to learn by example.

Opening the show was Jeffrey Lewis whom I had never before seen or heard and who impressed me deeply. Intelligent, creative, boundless and right on the very idea of right on-ness. I purchased a CD, which I rarely do at a show. O, money. I plan to purchase more regardless of o, money. There is happiness to procure in the way of astute, honest lyrics. Now I’m going to show a low-budget video, said Jeffrey Lewis as he picked up a large sketch pad and faced it toward the audience. He’d drawn pictures to illustrate a song about a character called Champion Jim and flipped the pages with the lyrics. This was the first of the low-budget videos. He also makes comic books. Visit him here.

Last night I watched the final episode of Six Feet Under on demand. It leaves me full, quiet, beaming, inspired, at peace, profoundly sad, and eager to make the most of my days alive. For a show on television to accomlish this is a feat and renders even littler the tripe beneath it. I may have more to say on this another time, but right now the vastness of its meaningfulness is still moving around in me.

That's news for today. I am busy playing the role of a busy professional in an office. And remember: When you know not what else to do, say hello to the grasshopper on your neck.