I went to the
Pinback show the other night with Erika, Jeff, Chris, Jason, et al, but then I had to leave early because I wasn't feeling well & I had made a little contract with myself about it. The contract said, If they play a song I don't like I will just walk the four blocks home. There is only one song I don't like (�Charborg�) & when they started it I did walk home even though I was wearing a tuxedo shirt with no jacket & it was suddenly cold.
More windy than cold, at that point, I guess. The streets were almost empty & the deco arches over High Street were lit up for once & I could still sort of hear the music even out on the sidewalk.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:Last night we went to Bee + Beck's house (where I said, among many other words, the word "fishhookesque" & Bee thought I was speaking French) & it was nearly midnight by the time we parked the car down the street & walked up to the house. While we had been gone there had been a fire in one of the row houses a few doors down from us. There was yellow Caution tape perimitting the yard & a huge stack of brittle, burnt furniture in it.
I was suddenly sad for bean because I know it is her worst fear that she will be driving home & turn onto our street & see that there is no house where our house is, just a pile of ash & black pieces of things.
It had been raining off & on all day & so the air was heavy & wet & the smell of the fire hung like a solid thing. Strangely, guiltily, it was a nice smell, because the smell of burning wood is a nice smell.
