sketches from the anti-mall

this moment is
as my eyes graze the lab & counter culture vying for the valet parking or grooving to the tunes being spun by the dj who's camped out amidst shady trees and rusted-out oil can waterfall painted all shades of orange, goldenrod and scarlet.
she's got on sunglasses, a macy-gray-facade sucking on a drink from the den. dark skin sharply offset by a white wifebeater and a smooth white bracelet. & here i am, w/ my green apple purse and wistfully tan legs, knobbly dry kneecaps and red mules, my moleskine doesn't make me a star, nor any amount of exercise.
the shade is cool and a man snaps gum loudly on a padded concrete bench to my left. i want to stay here and soak it in, let the beats fool my brain into thinking time stood still just long enough for me to write it all down.
for a second it does, as a singular beat threads through the air to my ears. i pause to close my eyes & then i remember- I'm going to London, to Paris. Will I experience something close to this? where you enter the pulse of a miniature thriving of people condensed into a particular place? a chance to be absorbed into Babylon and inspired to write just because i can and because i want to but mostly because
to stop whatever my previous agenda included, stop & write & hope that i've married w/ my surroundings enough to compel you
to move you
with simple words
phrases long enough
well enough to help
you put your finger
on the pulse as well.
it's been too long since words have called me & i am relieved to take pause in capturing
my mule slips off my left foot part way & the cacophony of native drums distantly disrupts the DJ and my thoughts flutter and flop. time to go, it says. But, Can't I stay? No, Time says, I'm up.


bring me my radiohead 3.0

greetings! for some strange reason i've been reluctant to post on my adventures at the radiohead concert. i find myself strangely apathetic about the whole thing and i'll blame that on the pms because, certainly, it was a fabulicious show. i've no regrets about the money spent to get me there, or about the fact i didn't try to sneak backstage on the coattails of friends who my link me to thom yorke with one degree of separation. in fact, from what i can tell, said friends did not even talk with said thom yorke. shame on you! shake his hand, get a picture, let him sweat on you a bit. perhaps some musical genius will rub off. however, said friends are already excellent musicians, so i'll let it slide. this time.

below is a partial set list of known songs in playlist order. there may be some slip ups here and there, as i find myself extremely uneducated in the long line of radiohead song titles. the amusing task of tracking the songs in my baby moleskine notebook resulted in a conglomeration of lyric snippets and an attempt to list "everything in it's right place" at least 3 separate times. the third time, radiohead finally read my mind and relented by actually playing it.
you and whose army?
the national anthem
2+2=5 (the lukewarm)
morning bell/amnesiac
videotape (new)
kid a
dollars & cents
street spirit (fade out)
karma police
i might be wrong
true love waits
everything in it's right place
there there (the boney king of nowhere)
the bends
how to disappear completely
on the greek theatre: stacked parking blows. not so much the getting out part, as we arrived about 45 minutes before the start of the show. it was the "getting to our parking spot" part, which involved off-roading and should have contained a prerequite for drivers or passengers with weak constitutions, back conditions, or expectant mothers. while i don't suffer from 2 out of 3 of those, and my back is in fairly good shape at this point, i do recall a distinct moment when i thought i might get whiplash.

on the opener: deerhoof. interesting stuff. fun to watch. not as fun to listen to. amusing in retrospect.

afterthoughts: i'm really glad josh & i went. stick to the pink's hotdogs next time because their grilled cheese sandwiches are like chewing crunchy, stale, microwaved bread. hello? "grilled"? does that mean anything to you? oh, and the garlic fries are dangerously fully yummy. but you'll have garlic breath for at least 24hrs. (hey--there's a thought for the next season of 24! take THAT, jack bauer!) radiohead was not at the peak of their game, but i've no regrets. a fairly solid performance, great sound, and i always appreciate a band who doesn't sell out to the stadium venue (sorry, U2) at the risk of sacrificing their distinct sound. i would do it all over. minus the grilled cheese.