Tambourine Rage

I went to hear a band last night, and almost lost my mind. I was aware that the sound of a tambourine can drive some people into an insensible rage, but had never experienced that kind of uncontrolled fury about a seemingly harmless musical instrument before.

It was not so much the tambourine, but the completely injudicious use of it - the tinny, tacky, un-relenting un-rhythmic rattle that never ceased. It was like trying to listen to a serious band fronted by the fucking energizer bunny.

I have absolutely no idea why I became so angry. What's even more ridiculous is the fact that I'm still pissed off about it, twelve hours later. But, honestly, if I'm ever unavoidably trapped at a restaurant where that man is banging on his tambourine again, it will be all I can do not to leap onto the stage, wrestle it from him, jump up and down on it and set fire to the damn thing.

When good things happen...

Whenever I have a really good day, like this one, I wonder why. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but is it just random, or do I have good karma, or am I going to pay for it later when the other shoe drops?

I had a pretty shitty week. It's felt like there have been 'oppositional forces' pushing on me since the week began, and then today - nothing! Like when you've been walking in a strong wind, braced against it, and then the wind stops and it's such a relief. It's so pleasant! And you can enjoy everything.

If today wasn't just a random assortment of happy and interesting events, then thank you, whoever or whatever is responsible. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Blue Monday at the Buckhorn

Oh man. I guess you just had to be there.

Ward Stout at the Stage Door Grill

All week people have been introducing me to this visiting fiddle player from Nashville. He played tonight at the Stage Door Grill, just backing up local musicians , a real angel of a guy. Here he is on MySpace.

Listen to Train Song, it's just beautiful. Buy his music.

Mean Woman Blues

At the Trinidaddio Blues Festival last weekend I bought a small print of this painting called "Mean Woman Blues". The artist is George Hunt. I just love this print, and I can't stop looking at it.

If I could, I'd commission George Hunt to paint a picture of me, the way I feel right now. It would be called Tired Woman Blues. A google search doesn't turn up any song called Tired Woman Blues, so I might have to write it.

Maybe it would have to be called Mundane Woman Blues. Yeah, I'm tired - tired from working all week at a good job with a steady paycheck, tired from driving a gas-efficient foreign car to music festivals just about every weekend, tired from staying up too late every night reading books that I bought new at Borders (that favorite haunt of latte drinking, independent film loving, organic food buying, New York Times reading, sushi eating white liberals like me.)

Okay, maybe it would have to be called "Got No Right to Have the Blues". But, oh wait a minute, over at Amazon.com I find that someone else already wrote that song. Some white girl like me with an insipid voice whose cover of Joni Mitchell's Circle Game could send you into a diabetic coma. (See? I'm mean! I'm a Mean Woman!)

So maybe no portrait, no song. Maybe just a glass of wine and a good night's sleep.

Milestones

There are about 37 different emotions precipitating in my brain, most of them to do with the fact that my oldest daughter turned 18, and starts college next week. I've been doing everything I can to be peaceful about this, but today I'm giving in to the tears.

I wish I could turn back time and make it go slower.

Check out Elizabeth's Calm-a-Sutra of Tea Scholarship Entry

Please watch - and pass it on!