Is caged by frail and fragile bars.
Restless by day,
And by night rants and rages at the stars.
God help the beast in me ~ Nick Lowe (1994)
A morning of packing. We'll spend tonight at Spooky's parents, then catch the train the Penn Station at the Kingston depot at about nine tomorrow morning. From there, it's the Crescent Line south to Birmingham. There's the expected anxiety are coming out of the hermit crab's shell of my office, my soft carapace being exposed to the world for some two weeks with no recourse to my armor. But there's more excitement about being home for the first time in six years and three months. I don't count the five minutes I spent on the platform last July, on our way to New Orleans.
I have to catch a train in Kingston, then I'm Alabama bound. There's a line from a Tom Waits song. Or Woody Guthrie.
There was a bit of a catastrophe on Wednesday night. We went to a show at the Columbus Theater to see Kishi Bashi. But, first we were crammed into a space upstairs – the theater's old balcony – hardly even the size of our apartment, some two hundred or so people. Hipsters. The worse sort of hipsters. The reek of humans (I forget how much humans stink), skunk pop smoke, curry, Budweiser, et cetera and et ectera was almost unbearable. Plus, we were crammed into tiny seats that would have been new in 1899, and I might have fit were I only 5'5" and very thin. Then, we had to suffer through two utterly horrid opening acts, the second being the worse, three Weezer wannabes calling themselves Bombadil. They were OH so irony and also had a ukelele. When Kishi Bashi finally came on, they were crammed onto that tiny stage, in a room that was star too small for the expansive soundscape they were trying to create. I could hardly hear, and I was exhausted from the smells and being so cramped. So I got up and left the theater, leaving Kathryn to endure the nightmare. I went to the restroom and almost immediately cracked met skull on a marble thingy as I was entering a stall in the toilet, I very briefly lost consciousness and came to as I was tumbling backwards. It was a bad fall, and I have a bad bruise on my coccyx to show for it. Within a minute, I mad a bad contusion on my head, and I was afraid I had a concussion. I made it back into the theater and got Kathryn. And we went home. As we left, Kishi Bashi were beginning a cover of Wings' "Live and Let Die" that I really would have loved to have heard. And no, I didn't go to the doctor. But my head hurt until late yesterday. The bump has mostly gone down.
That was our Fun Wednesday night. Someday, we'll see Kishi Bashi in a proper venue. And no more Providence, not ever again.
But, hey, I had some wonderfully productive five days before that. I wrote "Black Glass, Green Glass." I proofed the "CEM" for Raisin' Hell. I got Sirenia Digest #103 out to subscribers. That means I don't have to worry too much about work while I'm in Alabama. Right after I get home, I may have a short trip (one night) to NYC for Writers House's 40th anniversary party. Merrilee Heifetz of WH has been my agent since July 1997. That's seventeen years with the same agent. And we'll be visiting Neil for a couple of days in October. So, lots of travel for someone who's unaccustomed to travel.
Yesterday, I had my hair dyed black again, at Vis-à-Vis Hair Design on Broadway. No more grey. This is the first time I've gone black since 2009, I think.
And I suppose that's all for now. I mean to make regular blog entries while I'm in Leeds. I'll have lots of photos I want to post. But this is likely my last entry until at least Monday.
Almost Outta Here,