September 9th, 2005

Le théâtre de l'absurde

Things I never say.

Music enters my life largely by accident. I'll stumble onto artists because a friend drags me to a show, or hands me a mix, or just outright says, "I think you'd really like..." More often, it's just sheer dumb luck. I experienced Bjork's vocal acrobatics for the first time through a live rendition of Coldsweat on MTV's 120 Minutes while visiting a friend who had concurrent insomnia. I found Pixies while wandering in the city looking for something to do after having been dumped by someone who "didn't want to be in love with two people at the same time..." There was a girl who dragged me down to Park Street from the end of the Green Line because she was totally crushing on a busker that had been playing pretty regularly down there. We sat against pillars and watched Mary Lou Lord play for at least an hour. Probably more. I was pretty surprised to learn that I have "Indie Rock Cred" for having had experiences like these. I'm still not entirely sure what having "Indie Rock Cred" is.

At any rate, I got to see Mary Lou do a free show today, which was pretty fantastic. I meant to say how much I appreciated her coming out and playing, but I'm enough of a dork that I managed to forget even to ask what CDs she had with her. At thirty-six, I still can't talk to strangers, much less artists whose work I've admired for years. I'm guessing that shyness places a substantial drag on my "cred." Whatever.

The performance was still a bright spot in a week that's been a little lacking in them. Was good to see V- briefly, too. The real regret comes from not having thought to carry the camera.
The Epicure

When the cure doesn't

As it turns out, I'm probably allergic to penicillin. I know this because I have been King Itchy for the past week, and the docs think that the most likely culprit was the amoxycillin I was on for to clear out the respiratory infection that took August from me. I consider it an experiment in medieval living. Without the fleas. Or the plague.

At any rate, I'm entering my second week of the reaction and am None Too PleasedTM, especially since it's beginning to interfere with my ability to focus on Things That Need Be DoneTM. I'm also catastophizing a little, which is unsurprising since I've been otherwise a little distressed this week. I probably won't be scritching for the rest of my life, but that realization hasn't stopped me from wondering what that would be like.

I'll spare you the real doomsday scenarios I've considered. Suffice to say that webmd is an evil, evil place.

In other news, thanks to Jeremy, I now know about this. Isn't that weird?