Nothing Without A Woman To Care

When James Brown sings, he has more people onstage than MC Hammer. The Soul General (who rivals The Secretary General of Cool), three drummers, the Bittersweets, and even strippers. Now THAT, kids, is how you put on a show.

It was amazing to see The Godfather of Soul in action, and it was even more surreal watching him in Laumeier at night… all of the sculptures were lit up and there were giant balloon lights floating around everywhere like little moons. Hopefully LOMA will be just as secretly great next year, and it won’t end up like Riversplash (which was so fun and mellow until everyone found out about it).

He sang “It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World” and had a moment of silence in the middle for the hurricane victims, and then one of his horn players (who lost everything in Katrina) kicked in with this amazing wail, and I got goosebumps.

He can still sing perfectly and scream his ass off and dance and rock the red sparklies and play the keyboard and flirt with the ladies… and now that I’ve seen all that, I think I can die happy, thankyouverymuch…

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The Baby “Shower” was more of a Baby Party… Pregnant Ra’s dad installed a keg tap to the OUTSIDE of the fridge… all of my friends from back in the day were like “Shit, Scott, where was this when we were sixteen?”

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This weekend I was up at Winifred, drinking on the balcony with Heebs, Lunchbox, Ted, and Otter… Ted introduced us to a lab named Zeus and his owner, Alexandro, who live next door.

Alexandro is from an island off the coast of Italy and he barely speaks English (unless he has his guitar and he’s singing Nirvana or The Doors) and he is just the most precious thing ever.

He was telling me about how he met his wife in Florence, and I had a pang of regret for ignoring those men who used to chase Jen and I all over Italy.

“We meet, we fall-a in love-a, and then I move-a here, to San Luis…”

This made me automatically like him, for obvious reasons, but then he blushed as he talked, and kept pausing to whisper “aww…”

Then he tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Steph-a-nee, you like George Harr-ee-son, yes?” Hee!

Then he started to play “My Sweet Lord”. And in the words of Miss Alli, “and then I hugged myself, and then I passed out”.

Planet Ra

Ra called me last night from a Walmart in Texas. She doesn’t have TV or the Internet, and even when she did, she barely used them.

“So I’m at Walmart and it’s freaking me out.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, people are running around buying water and batteries and shit. There’s supposed to be a big storm or something? Have you heard about this?” [Note to future readers: hurricane.]

When 9/11 happened I was in Europe, and Ra wrote me an e-mail that started out with “Guess what just fucking happened…”

Oh, Ra. I would give anything to live in the same world as you.

I’m Going To Punch You In The Ovaries

Today I worked on the corporate video, which means I got to watch B-Roll of Top Secret Work Crush for a nice portion of my day. It sounds creepy, but a) it wasn’t my idea and b) there was a nice crowd in my office watching, too. Vee kept walking by and laughing, like “I can’t believe you’re getting paid to do this.”

I also rediscovered “Peace Frogs” by The Doors today. I went through my Jim Morrison phase when I was too young to know better, and I completely forgot about this song. So good. The Doors were an amazing band, but Jim Morrison was pretty overrated. I mean, I went through that phase of worshiping the Dead at 27 Club like everyone else, but my acid poetry is (presumably) just as good as his, and so is everyone else’s. Snakes and Lizards and Feathers and Dicks. Indians die in the desert. I. Get. It. But you still don’t make any sense.

Also: Ginger’s iTunes struck again today with Easy E’s “Gimmie That Nut”.

Last weekend was super fun. I haven’t been to Greentree in years, and it was really great to finally go again. I saw tons of old friends, lots of folk art, blacksmiths, men in kilts, bluegrass bands, a herd of sheep complete with a sheep dog, and a million puppies from the Humane Society. I also had the best snow cone ever:

Yummy!!!

Afterwards, Heebs and I explored the old cemetery that Ra and I used to run around in when we were little. We found about ten rows of dead nuns and we cleaned the litter off of their graves. Brownie points with the Big Guy, maybe? Just asking.

But after that we went under Harrison Bridge and made fun of all the graffiti that was scrawled all over the place. Thank god they’ve painted under there since I was 14. What?

Last night Lunchbox and I got drunk and watched the storm on the fire escape until it got too scary. Then Heebs and Matilda joined us and we watched Anchorman. I haven’t seen it since the infamous date with Don. It was a million times funnier than I remembered.

Matilda likes to sit on my shoulders when she watches movies. She also likes to sleep there. So needless to say, I am a bit sniffly right now.

And to all the DJ boys: get your TB303s ready, cuz next weekend The Secretary General of Cool is coming to town!! Yay!!

Hoodie Time!

I adore the fall.

Great things always tend to happen around this time of the year, and so far 2005 is no exception. I have all those busy weekends ahead of me, and there’s even more stuff in the works. Greentree, the Balloon Glow, being home alone with Heebs, Veronica Mars marathons, another trip to Chicago, a possible trip to Paris (!) to check out the offer, and a visit in a few weeks from The Secretary General of Cool.

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I love my friends so much, and lately the ones I haven’t seen in a while have been calling or dropping by a lot, and that’s always a nice surprise.

Someone I know recently passed away, and Pregnant Ra and I were talking about it, along with the group of friends that we hung out with back in the day.

“Becky went to the funeral,” she said. She paused for a bit before adding “She has to go to EVERYTHING. God. I hate her.”

I laughed so hard… it was one of those moments that reconfirms why 90% of my friends are boys… but it also reminded me of how much I love Pregnant Ra.

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My old friend Chris sells promotional supplies. I found this out when I bumped into him at work today. I haven’t seen him in forever.

He kind of did a double take when he saw me. “Whoa,” he said. “You’re like… a woman now.”

One of my marketing managers was walking by when he said this, and laughed when she saw me standing there, trying to react.

“… And what was I before, exactly?” I asked.

“No, no…” he laughed, giving me a hug. “I just mean, before you were like this little kitten, and now you’re like… ‘Roar’.”

I wonder, is Like Roar the same thing as Like Whoa? Either way, that was one of the nicest things I’ve heard in a while. But he almost took it back when he saw my office in all it’s Crayola Glory.

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I wonder how long I can get away with not having to pick a boyfriend? It’ll happen when it’s meant to, I suppose, but in the meantime I’m having too much fun. I used to hate the idea of “dating”, but the longer it goes on, the funnier it gets.

One night, I got super drunk with a guy I was dating, and he tried to have “the talk” about getting more serious (always a great conversation to have when you’re hammered, of course). Supposedly I clamped my hand over his mouth, looked him in the eye, and said “Shut up.”

I don’t really remember this, but I wish I did because that’s awesome. And according to him, pretty hot. Haha.

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Lately everyone I meet is heavily involved with comedy and improv. Even Mark and the Jersey boys are all about it. Laughter makes the world go round. This is going to be a great fall.

And once again, you guys, I am so serious about this harmonica. You have no idea.

Happy Friday!

Get Down, Woman

Nothing is more relaxing and clarifying than a long drive through Missouri listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival. If people did that every weekend, the world would be a much better place.

Lately I’ve had to warn a lot of people in my life that I’m not ready to be 100% there… words like “relationship” and “boyfriend” aren’t exactly in my vocabulary right now. But I think I’m almost there.

It’s amazing who can pop into your head when you’re not trying to think about anyone at all.

When you’re out in the country and away from the noise, the day-to-day grind, the distractions and the convenience – that’s when your heart speaks loud and clear.

I, for one, am not afraid to listen.

This weekend was really great. Lots of old friends, lots of laughing, more improv than I could handle, making margaritas come out of somebody’s nose, and a big ridiculous puppy named Sarge. A long drive is worth it when times like that are waiting for you at the end. And coming home is just as rewarding, especially when your roommate greets you with shit like this.

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There’s a term in poetry (used mainly with translations) called “after”… if you write something that’s based on someone else’s material, you cite the original work by noting that it was “after” the original author. A lot of things qualify as “after”: writing about a different topic in the same style or format, taking the original topic and anecdotes and just kind of saying it in a different way, or simply being inspired by the original piece and writing a reaction to it. I always wondered how I’d feel if someone wrote something “after” me.

And now I know. And it’s kinda creepy. Look, I’m not trying to be Maya Angelou over here. Apparently there are a lot of things “after” me floating around out there right now. But it’s more amusing to hear about it than to actually waste my time reading it.

“I have nothing new to teach the world. Truth and non-violence are as old as the hills.”

Gandhi was right, but sometimes people will jump on your ass for that, too. And damn, it’s fun to be bad when you know that at the very least, you’re original.

If there was ever a time where I wished I could phonetically spell “fine” the way we say it, it’s now. Fehhhyne. Does that sound right?

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I listened to Ginger’s iTunes today because I didn’t feel like wearing my headphones, and she usually has well behaved music that won’t offend my boss or next door neighbor. The Dawson’s Creek soundtrack, John “Shudder” Mayer, a little country, a little Britney. The music was sitting in the background nicely and I was going about my business when all of a sudden “Boom I F%#*ed Your Boyfriend” by Salt ‘n Pepa came blaring through the speakers. Everyone laughed, but even if they were offended I think we all can agree that at this point, ANYTHING is better than “Celebrate”.

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Last night I was talking to Liz about her wedding. She was telling me about her dress and her big pouffy train. She told me I’d have to be her “fluffer”. Then she laughed hysterically and said it like five more times. This is why I love Liz.

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The next few weekends are going to be insane: house-sitting, baby showers, camping, Kansas City, birthdays, James Brown, and a possible road trip to Mishy-Gan.

I also desperately want to go to Meremac Caverns soon, though. And to Fright Night as well, because I’ve never been. I may or may not have been brainwashed by the 5,923 billboards I saw on my way to Springfield and back, but whatevs. Cheesy ghosts, roller coasters, pretty caves and Jesse James’ hideout. Who’s in?

But the next stop is Chicago – tomorrow! Yay! I’ll be there again in a couple of months when I’m not working, but I’m still really excited. I have to meet everyone at 6AM, though, which means I’ll probably start sedating myself as soon as I get home. So don’t call unless you want a piece of the sleepy pill brains, okie dokie?