soapboxdiner

Listen to the Sound of the Man working on the Chain... gang

I was a beatnik ALL weekend. It was great! in that "do you ever feel less alone when you're completely alone than when you're surrounded by a room full of the peoples?"

But it was okay. Friday I went to a coffee house and got to listen to an East Coast Joni Mitchell no bra but plenty of arm pit hair and her hippie bongo drumming Burk wearing beau play songs almost as irritating and trite and 12 consecutive drunks singing the Whitney version of I Will Always Love You. I can only remember one though - the ultra uninspired Hotel California.

I drank a LOT of wine.

Joni and The Man were followed by a bright eyed gopher of a girl who shared her Love o' The Lord in prose/poems for a half hour.

Which was kinda sweet and cute in that "I think I might hurl my $12 bruscetta... ten... nine...eight" way. Yeah!

But it was all for an acquaintance who was showing his paintings for the first time in like ever. They (or I suppose I should say it, because it appears he gets quite windy when nervous and talked - quite interestingly - for all but 30 seconds of his time.

More interestingly, there were maybe 15 people at the cafe, and about 50% of them were women, all of whom where there to see him. None of his guests were male. Innnterressstingkk, dahlings.

Saturday was back up on the roof - which is finally done. Also, I finished resealing my living room window that showered me with rain all last winter. I'm hoping we've come to an understanding now, and it will rain on me no more.

Sunday was HOT, spent in scenic downtown My Town at it's annual summer fest. Ikea paper fans, local crafts and arts, miniature horses and pygmy goats, and a lovely fry bread for lunch.

We hung out on the grass and listened to The Beatniks (the second occurrance this weekend - snap snap snap) play some funky Neil Diammond and finish off in Kiss masks to the bopping ditty "I want to Rock And Roll All Night (and party every day)." Which made me nostalgic for the days I lived with two men who got up at the crack of dawn to that very song - which I'm sure would not have been so memorable if I hadn't have been a grave shift worker quite accustomed to coming home and bowling up for a couple hours and then crashing, only to have Vince thumping in my eardrums just a shy few minutes later.

Ahh. Archie and Edith were right.... those were the days.

6:36 am - 07.28.03
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