Tonight, it's jacket and scarf weather. This means I need to go look at holiday decorations (Halloween through New Year's), buy Starbucks in a red cup. Are the red cups out yet? Browse bookshelves that I'm not going to justify purchasing off of. Stimulate the economy and the like. Oh, especially the like.

Kudos to Will for fulfilling the American Dream and buying a house. Too bad it previously was owned by his adorable grandfather, and thus not eligible for Mr. Obama's stimulus package. Seriously, are all things attempted by the middle class exempt from the stimulus?

And yet, the sight of a three year old with mud half way up her jeans and a round orange pumpkin in her hand offering me candy corns makes the rest of the world seem as fine as nothing.

Crash, un homage

Because I just found out a cover has been done of DMB's song.and I don't know how to feel about that. I'm still reeling from the original.
Sorry about the sentimentality. It was the only video where embedding was not disabled.

Really should learn: to proofread

"I love that which has meaning." is not what I meant at all.

I love the meaning which is in a thing.

A love

I love that which has meaning.

Pulsing Wilco

First of all, I would like to say thanks to Rachel for getting in a car crash and breaking both of her legs so we could park for free in handicapped parking and sit in handicapped seating. The handicapped seating at the Orpheum is beyond words. Even if people stand up and jump and down (which they did, cuz it's Wilco) you still have an unobstructed view.

Second of all, I would like to say thank you to the people who recruited the opening act, some Britishspeakers named Eliza Jane and Liam Finn. Not making that up. Not since the Felice Brothers have I so...listened to the opening act. It wasn't just noise. There was writhing and growling, musical cleverness, a good rapport with the audience and Margaret, the gold shirt. Oh--and they are terrific singers and musicians. Eliza Jane came across like someone's kid sister giving a helping hand. And not in a Meg White "sister" sort of way. Her voice is airy and sweet and powerful and she doesn't look like an indie-waif. She gently swayed side to side as Liam turned did the Worm, the Hendrix kneel and burn, and that guy who always climbed on the drum kit. Clever turns of phrase. And oh, just generally eager to see them again. I hope that piques your interest. If not, just go check out the website and be impressed on your own terms. I can't satisfy all of you.

And now for the interactive portion of the blog. Someone suggest a synonym for "tight." As in, "Wilco is a really _____ band." You can just leave it in the inbox, thanks.

I don't remember ever thinking this about a band before, so it must be true: Wilco is the single most connected band I ever heard. The way six musicians move together it was like ocean waves or, or, something else that moves seamlessly back and forth together. Lifelong lovers, maybe. The sound bounces. Bounces. For everyone who ever took choir or voice knows that when a director says "give it a bounce" he really means pulse the sound with a tiny push of extra energy that gives vibrancy and richness to the note. Wilco sustained that tiny push of extra energy that recalls the runner's high, the yogi's flow, the pump and cycle of a piston, and leaves the listener oh, so satisfied. They played a lot off the new album, which, I am ashamed to say I have not heard yet. But they filled it in with crowd favorites off YHF and SBS. Next payday, probably.

But the highlight of the evening? At the end of "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart" Jeff Tweedy broke off the music to make a request that audience members not film or record the concert. Not because they want to control distribution, etc. Rather, because "you should live your life and not live it based on an imperfect medium."

Since "Cinnamon Girl" was apparently not YouTubed, enjoy this instead. Particularly the guy's really big nose. You'll see what I mean.

Facebook Day Two

So yesterday after my half-articulated rail against FB, I actually checked it twice. That's improvement, in my opinion. You won't make me think less of myself for having done it, okay?

Here's my routine: Since I moved inward, I have not had the internet at home or through my phone or any other device I possess. Well, at least no internet I'm going to pay for. (Of course, ATT would allow me to access it through my phone at a "modest fee." Of course they would.) Friday night about 5:30 through Monday morning about 8:30--no problem. If there is an urgent need to be online--check a banking issue, order concert tickets, find out some info--well, I live two blocks from the office. Problem solved. Monday I come in, catch up on the email, scan Twitter and done--off to do the work I get paid to do.

Being so FB-needy has led me to spend more time at work than I care to admit, checking up on things. Why? What things? Instead of using FB as a tool to appreciate other people's family pictures, and catch up on life news, and exchange witty banter with friends, I've used it as a tool of self-flagellation. Why didn't I think to say this? Why didn't I think to post this? Why don't my pictures seem to get as many comments as XY&Z's? Ruh-diculous. Seriously.

Although saying this aloud may actually prove the opposite, I once thought I was a reasonably self-actualized person. Not that I didn't have moments of quavering or second-guessing. (And I'm pretty convinced even Gandhi had one or two.)

What happened and why did I let it? Huh.

"The time has come," the Oyster said

...to talk of many things." Like saying goodbye to Facebook for a little while. See, I've been thinking about making this experiment, wherein I determine if I could be a happier person, a richer person as it were, without the constant news stream. The constant comparison between my life and the lives of others.

I do not desire to live my life as Comparative Cathy and that's what I have been turning into lately. From a very early age, I always felt that distance between myself and others that comes with...well. I don't know. I think this explains it. Maybe.

Arrghh...I can't say just what I mean.