May 10th, 2004



My Morning Jacket attracts crowds of straight people wearing boring clothing. but they play a great show and Jim James is my newest rock and roll crush. what a cutie! cherubic face, well-furred. who could resist.

opening was a fellow named M. Ward who was playing a folky-indy-country cover of Bowie's "Let's Dance" on acoustic guitar when I arrived and I immediately ascertained that M. Ward is a freakshow of his own but in an accessible folky-country-indy way and then he only did one more song and I got to thinking about talented freaks who stand up on stage and do their thing unselfconsciously and I fell in love with M. Ward too although from what I heard his music isn't exactly what I like but he's got that savant kind of talent that draws you in whether you like exactly what he's doing or not.

many many thoughts ran through my head in the two and a half hours I was there listening to these people but mostly they boiled down to what is necessary in a person to get them up there like that and whether anyone else in the audience appreciates what a precarious job it is.

I was also thinking things like how so many rock and roll pundits and fans and even practitioners have likened gigs to church services and I thought how could god even consider sending Jim James, for instance, to hell. then outside at the bus stop I talked to a lady in her fifties who lives nearby but spends her evenings outside drinking and speaking with whomever passes by and although a fifty year old alcoholic woman sitting at a bus stop talking to strangers on a sunday evening may sound pitiful she was charming company and I just don't see her going to hell either.

see I've been arguing with arch-conservative windbags in my head for the last couple of days after inadvisably reading a brief collection of really stupid things that some of them have said so as an antidote I've been thinking about the people around me who in their eyes would be unworthy of heaven or even civil society and in the end it seems the freaks and lowlifes are much more the type of people you would want around you in paradise than those who indignantly demand that freaks and lowlifes stop being such.

this then is what I made of the sermon I guess. but I still wish they'd play "The Bear" out.
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mutts earl


should I name him Wyatt Earp?

I don't know why. I was thinking Cowboy as I knew a cat named Cowboy ages ago and I thought why not a specific Cowboy and Wyatt Earp was the first name to come to mind. I'm not sure but wasn't Earp a sherrif? if so then that's not the right name. no law-and-order nuts in my house. will have to look this up.

meantime he's taken to chasing the cursor. on my desktop with the glass-screened monitor this is not a problem but little kitten claws on the laptop screen give me nightmares of all the liquid crystals oozing out of little holes.

I know it probably doesn't work just like that but that is still what I envision.

now I want a defunct laptop to cannibalize so I can see if the innards of a laptop screen are as interesting and pretty as, say, a cat's retina. which is interesting and pretty but best left in the cat as long as it is not diseased.
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