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2001-10-09 || 11:47 a.m. || black lungs and broken ear drums || i'm back. with blackened lungs and busted ear drums. and i want to get it all out in one breath: driving and driving and all the music until the car stereo caught on fire ('do you smell that?' 'mmhmm. burning plastic and markers.' and getting ready to pull over to check the oil just as smoke begins to billow from the tape deck.). daniel johnston & jad fair, the strokes, flake music, piano magic, clinic (heart heart), the impressions, black sabbath, owen's brother's death metal band, mirah, the microphones, the anthology of folk music volume 1, freshly recorded casiotone songs, elizabeth cotten, liliput and and and. arming ourselves with apples from owen's parents' trees. getting ready for the show at the record store in santa cruz and spontaneously bustin out and dancin in the classical music aisle. defiling every public edifice within a mile radius with neoprint stickers. driving in the dark and telling good secrets. staging dramatic arguments in lines of busy gas station mini marts, complete with storming off into the parking lot. staying in charity's haunted house in hollywood with candles and couches and stray cats on the porch. playing scrabble and silently looking up words in the dictionary as owen recorded a song on charity's tiny piano. so so so many cigarettes. missing michaelblandy incredibly. especially while driving down the 5 to san diego. getting a bit choked up about that. racing to my sister's house, land of cat hair and homemade dresses. san diego show: we are playing pool with kelly's friends. we are smoking too much. we are taking polaroids with reckless abandon. I am incredibly nervous for owen, what with all the tough kids and that couple whom I know were talking about us while we were standing outside. owen plays his best show ever. the tough kids love him, including the band previous that had knocked everyone's socks off. they are swarming around him, hands clasped to hearts, exchanging phone numbers and promising to set up shows. owen in a rocker version of ring around the rosie: boy in cardigan sweater and glasses surrounded by boy in dreadlocked hair and ear plugs with the biggest damn gauge I've ever seen and a beautiful girl rumored to be a punk rawk stripper. the rapture plays and I am standing to the side in the front. I am dancing and clapping very loud and slowly coming to the conclusion that it is rather uncomfortable to watch them onstage. I am getting sad that we aren't spending any time with luke and joshy and matty, that our primary mode of interaction has been hugging them on sidewalks and asking them how they are feeling, mum-like. sunday: breakfast with the san diego kids. coming up with names for anthony and tito's band ('what about bloodhound doggy?' it got worse.). record shopping and gelato and sunshine at kelly's work and driving up for dinner at my parents'. santa ana show: the best night ever. sitting at a table with joshy and jeff and owen and getting the 24th street feeling. joshy's laugh and jeff's incessant scandals and aline's shit talkin and we are finally talking and laughing and it doesn't feel so weird. things haven't changed so much. so you have a wedding ring. so you are much more reserved. so I feel this awkward sense of adoration/jealousy/maternal instincts/sentimentality whenever I see you that is keeping me from acting like a normal human being. getting to see faraway lovelies: hiya neenay. hallo kim. kisses, hashem. I stood in the very front for both sets, dancing obnoxiously I am sure and smiling like an idiot and snapping pictures. it felt like our living room. it felt like a really good inside joke. after the show we all stood in the parking lot and I got to have my fill of my boys, finally. boxing with joshy on asphalt ('remember when we used to do this in the kitchen?' remember when I kicked ya in the nuts?) and telling luke and his lady dumb stories. lovely. and I am so stuck in the past. remember this? and remember when the ceiling feel down? remember the time we made that movie for school? I'm sure it was pathetically obvious. that I am holding onto these brilliant memories and feel compelled to remind you of them. we all hugged and hugged and made promises to go out to breakfast and to keep in touch and to be careful. messing up my hair and putting me in headlocks. the next day we picked up charity in l.a. and drove drove drove back to oakland. sticking out like sore geeky thumbs in knee socks and self-cut hair at gas stations and the in-n-out burger. loving every minute of it. then owen's final california show in oakland: he played last and it felt like a secret party- everyone knowing everyone and much owen love. sitting on carpet and holding knees to chests. he kept asking why it was so quiet in between songs. mmm. all the songs came out beautifully. there was singing along and jabs and hooting. hugging and crowding around and trying to catch up in two minutes flat. and then packing everything in the van one last time: three casio keyboards, suitcase full of five more casio keyboards, four amps, one case of cables and batteries, one box of cds and seven-inches. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |