kanji

14 June, 2003
strawberry moon

I'm going to have to find out where they're getting all of these homespun names for moon phases. This one makes sense (more so than "sturgeon moon")... strawberries are in season. The blackberries and black raspberries soon will be. That means a couple of afternoons in wellies, with a machete strapped to my waist. Result: jam and some wine. Of course, some blood will have to be shed. Thorns. No effort is without the payment.

Two back-to-back Friday shows. It's always easier when there's some continuity... easier to remember where things get moved, which new releases have the most promise, the flow gets etched into the DNA more effectively. It was fun, today. Diverse. Experimental. Not The Same Old Shit. Eleven years, and I still don't want to give it up.

Of course, the same deal happens when I'm done... an hour or two of trance. Whatever is was that was so important before showtime is completely forgotten. Good therapy, probably.

I jetted straight home, afterward... right after I got the camera busy. It had been more than a week since inspiration hit, and that just wasn't right. Worry about money and relationships and bullshit are death to the sight. The musical lobotomy set things back in motion.

As soon as I walked into the house, Miss Jane was all dressed up for dinner, a nice one... our postponed anniversary "celebration." I ditched my comfortable German army shorts and Brazilian soccer shirt, and threw on real dress pants and a guyabara, and immediately got back into the car for another forty miles.

Her choice was an upscale "tavern"... F00d TV would have approved. Hour wait. Tastefully arranged slivers of veggies radiating from the main course. Tinkly well-played piano, unable to resurrect awful seventies hits. Hushed dining groom.

Minimal uninstigated conversation.

Hungry afterwards. A hundred bucks later.

I must be such a slob (though I clean up well, arguably). I like noise... a healthy crowd... a flagon of Guiness... and enough food to feel refueled.

That would have made a lot of sushi.

No anniversary booty. i feel so cheated. Thank you, god.

One bit of satisfaction... driving home with the top down, after the sun had set. Still warm, storms gone... and that moon illuminating everything.

Makes me want some strawberries.

.


hit me with your rhythm stick




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