Week Of Music #3: the church of Steely Dan

I'd love to tell you where it began, but the truth is that I don't remember. Instead, I have to choose a beginning point, arbitrary though it is, and begin from there.

The speed limit on the Cutoff was 40, but anyone with half a brain knew that the cops never policed that section of road, because there was no place for them to park, and even if there was, Bauxite didn't have cops anyway. The descent to the paved-over area where the railroad track used to be was one such that if you hit it at just the right speed, your car wouldn't go airborne, but you would.

Week Of Music #2: breathless but screaming, Damien Rice

"Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannonball"
- Damien Rice, "cannonball"

Week Of Music #1: hello Tuscaloosa, you can bite me

Day one of the Week Of Shows involved driving to Tuscaloosa. Ah, T-town, my spouse's former stomping grounds, but never a city that I quite felt at home in.

Shoot me on Saturday

If I've got any sense, I'll remember to reset the trip odometer tonight before I head out. It's going to be one of those [insert the word here for a three-day span in which you roadtrip to three different cities to see three different concerts and beg some of your west coast friends to stay up an hour later than usual so that you can use your obnoxious amount of free night and weekend cell phone minutes to talk to them so that you won't fall asleep on the way home from each show, which you wouldn't dream of missing].

Yeah. One of those.


My book lies on the bed, vanquished. It was finished only with the literary assistance of two very large, purring cats who could find nowhere else in the house to sleep but next to me. (A house full of cat-friendly napping places, and Tenzing couldn't find anywhere to sleep except draped over my right arm.)

I am now on the wrong side of one-thirty in the morning, waiting for a cup of rosehip tea to finish steeping, and pondering yet again the question that's been foremost in my mind: stay, or go?

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road unshared

On the final ten minutes of the drive, I explained to the mp3 player that its 'random' choice highly amused me. Sure, of the hundred-plus songs it had at its disposal, its only option was to play 'Time Stand Still' as I crossed into terra familiara.