Empty headed
I was thinking more yesterday, and Friday for that matter, than I am right now. Call it academic brainwashing, all I can bring to mind is what I've been reading, my interesting thoughts have fled. Even lying comatose through the latter half of Dazed and Confused was more mentally stimulating than this. Maybe that was just the second-hand pot smoke.
Last night proved in my mind the unparalleled power of a guitar to vastly increase the attractiveness of men (not that I didn't know already, but any doubt that remained was washed away completely). I mean, this guy was not at all attractive, but he was perhaps the most amazing guitarist I've ever heard. Consequently, when he played, I contemplated jumping him, and five seconds after he stopped I'd snap out of it and wonder what was wrong with me. Even aware of the effects of a guitar, I was helpless to resist.
The rest of the band was passable, but this guy was phenomenal. His voice was sometimes Bob Dylan and sometimes Mick Jagger, his hands possessed by the two Jimmy's and his body given over to the moves of Roger Daltry. I could close my eyes and believe it was 1974. At one point I could have sworn he was replaced by Chuck Berry. It was a great great night music-wise, and I'm glad to have decided to go with the longer walk and the more expensive beer. Outside of the music my evening was awkward, with nowhere to sit down (troubled me until the band started) and a companion that I wanted not to touch me. I hope my awkwardness didn't show.
On the bright bright side, I was reasonably productive today, looking forward to being moreso tomorrow. AND I got to have dinner with the lovely and charming Numoy. It was the typical date-night for us, rife with cracks about 'crust' and mimed bludgeoning, topped off with slut-laced banter. And a cheese pizza that was almost too good to be legal. To top off my evening, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Curly and I are on amazing terms (I will credit him with prompting my frequent use of the word amazing), and have a Dazed and Confused night planned for after the break. I'm excited and thrilled that he gives me so much credit, more than even I think I'm worth. He's a great guy.
Last night proved in my mind the unparalleled power of a guitar to vastly increase the attractiveness of men (not that I didn't know already, but any doubt that remained was washed away completely). I mean, this guy was not at all attractive, but he was perhaps the most amazing guitarist I've ever heard. Consequently, when he played, I contemplated jumping him, and five seconds after he stopped I'd snap out of it and wonder what was wrong with me. Even aware of the effects of a guitar, I was helpless to resist.
The rest of the band was passable, but this guy was phenomenal. His voice was sometimes Bob Dylan and sometimes Mick Jagger, his hands possessed by the two Jimmy's and his body given over to the moves of Roger Daltry. I could close my eyes and believe it was 1974. At one point I could have sworn he was replaced by Chuck Berry. It was a great great night music-wise, and I'm glad to have decided to go with the longer walk and the more expensive beer. Outside of the music my evening was awkward, with nowhere to sit down (troubled me until the band started) and a companion that I wanted not to touch me. I hope my awkwardness didn't show.
On the bright bright side, I was reasonably productive today, looking forward to being moreso tomorrow. AND I got to have dinner with the lovely and charming Numoy. It was the typical date-night for us, rife with cracks about 'crust' and mimed bludgeoning, topped off with slut-laced banter. And a cheese pizza that was almost too good to be legal. To top off my evening, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Curly and I are on amazing terms (I will credit him with prompting my frequent use of the word amazing), and have a Dazed and Confused night planned for after the break. I'm excited and thrilled that he gives me so much credit, more than even I think I'm worth. He's a great guy.
posted by Care @ 5:23 a.m.
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