"Are we enemies of the state?...

Or idealist bourgeoisie?" ~NOFX, The Marxist Brothers



This is a recent conversation that took place between my younger sister and her boyfriend Mark who is visiting. They are a constant source of entertainment and occasionally jewels like this shine out amongst the rest:


Her: *gasp* Baybeeeeee that's racist. Don't say that!

Mark: What's racist about it? I was just telling your sister to watch out for the darker skinned man because it was dark and she was driving.

Her: Don't call him dark; That's racist!

Mark: Um. I'm FROM [insert large midwestern city], I can't be racist. [I was smirking]

Her: No, that was racist.


Mark: If you don't stop I'm going to have to go womanist on you! [How does someone go womanist on you?]

Me: *laughs* Um. May I remind you that there's another woman in this vehicle. If you insult the driver, you get kicked out!

Her: Yeah... if you go womanist, maybe I'll just go Marxist.

Me: *uncontrollable laughter* Do you know what Marxism is?

Both: Yes.

Me: Well then, you have my blessing to get bourgeoisie on his ass.

Dirrrrrtier than Xtina!

Because this is how we roll...

"Relax and let your mind roll on...

over all your problems." ~ The Who, Relax.


I'm trying to simplify and de-stress my life and little things pop up. uninvited. These are things that I have had no control over and still don't. They've come up as very un-wanted surprises. When I'm actually trying to be good and kick some debt-ass, it's biting me in the ass even fiercer. What gives?

There are days I feel it's just eating up my sweetness. I'm so irritable I've snapped a few times at Limey and it feels horrible.

What the heck does one do to try and stop this behavior before it becomes a pattern? Besides being aware of it and trying to rid my life of the stressors that cause it... How do you relax?

Lend me your ideas. Please.

"Another day to face up, another day to wake up...

on the Feed Kill Chain." ~ Jay Farrar, Feed Kill Chain

I can't stop this song from running through my head today. It's not a favorite but it is good, it's just the kind of day I'm having, and my brain trying to 'bring happy back' by reminding me of how awesome last Friday was when Jay and I shared the same breathing area.

Oh, hmm, that sounded stalkerish... well, we were both at Stubb's Amphitheatre for the same reason: to rock out to some awesome music. Jay's band, Son Volt came through on tour with The High Strung opening.

The High Strung were a group of 3 boys, two of which had amazing hair-do's. My friend and I were impressed with the way the drummer's hair ignored the laws of gravity, growing higher and higher with each beat. I'm sure the intense heat and humidity that night had absolutely nothing to do with it!

Then there was the guy sporting a sweatband a'la Andre Agassi over his flat, lifeless stringy black hair. But don't get me wrong, it totally worked for him. He also had on these glasses that may or may not have been plastic aviator sunglasses. We did not venture to find out such details, instead we hightailed it to the fence where we gave the heels a rest because petite girls get no love at music concerts.

Son Volt started around 9:30 and played until 11-ish. Jay was talkative compared to his ACLfest performance last September, which seemed greatly appreciated as we know he's not exactly blessed with the gift of gab, but the gift of sweet, sweet lyric and music-writing.

The set list went a little something like this:
1/ Satellite 2/Who 3/The Search 4/Circadian 5/The Picture(w/horns) 6/Underground 7/Beacon 8/Highways and Cigs 9/Jet Pilot 10/Automatic 11/Exurbia 12/Meth 13/Damn Shame 14/Voodoo Candle(the punky G/C loud and fast version) 15/Medication 16/Medicine Hat 17/Tear Stained 18/Action 19/Bandages 20/Drown 21/Afterglow __________ 22/2000 Light Years from Home 23/Windfall 24/Life Worth Livin (Reggae-style baby!) 25/Chickamauga

Honestly, I was surprise that he didn't start with The Picture. To me, the horns and the general energy of that song really gets things going. I also wasn't crazy about the alternate version of Voodoo Candle. The Reggae Life Worth Livin almost made me leave early. Does this make me a bad fan? Perhaps; but I have to be honest, I wasn't enamoured with those choices. However, playing Windfall, Damn Shame, Tear Stained, and Chickamauga made my night.

I was left wondering, "Where's Coltrane-Free?" It's one of my favorite songs on the new album. It makes this girl feel empowered and any song with the word "unfurl" just tweaks that little spot in my brain that likes... being...tweaked.

Yeah, so, it was awesome.

I ended up going with one of my girls. Since everyone at a concert that stands in the front is at least 6'0 tall, because let's get real... Son Volt draws a sausagefest kinda crowd (not that I'm complaining) and anyone under 5'5" is treated to a view of armpits and shoulder blades. Because I was hell-bent on at least getting a glimpse of the Jay and the Duplantis. She and I wiggled our way on our tall heels to the front of the crowd about 15-20 feet from Jay. Unfortuantely, it was about 5 feet from the wall'o'speakers (imagine the last bit in a deep voice echoing in a chamber!) Our ears retired about 30-40 minutes later and we hung out for the rest of the show near the sound booth where we enjoyed awesome people-watching and better-sounding Son Volt.

One thing I did notice is that the crowd at Son Volt didn't yell requests at Jay.I've never been to a show were no one yelled out requests... nor one where more reqquests were yelled out than at Jeff Tweedy's solo gig in Hogg Auditorium. I'm not sure what it means. It's not good or bad, just something I took note of. It probably means I'm thinking too much.

Any-who...So if you have a chance to see Son Volt or Jay in a smaller setting than a festival, I highly recommend it. ACLfest sucked in comparason to this show. I would imagine Jay is even badder-asser in a super intimate setting


Did I mention it was awesome? Because it was. It really was.

And now back to my regular schedule work time... *sigh*

"Money, its a gas...

Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash." ~Pink Floyd, Money


A single cab does the Hustle down the I-35 corridor. The driver's white-knuckled and wide-eyed. "Why won't it go? Plenty of gas... plenty of oil... what is it? Bad Gas? Oh, tires. Right. They're older than old, probably made out of the first recycled prophylactics!"

Two tires have chunks missing from the tread, yet plenty of tread left. Two new tires are ordered; two will be ordered in the near future. "Cars are expensive." She says as she hands her Visa Debit Card to the fingers marinating in grease.

"Yep." It was almost as if he knew something she didn't.

The Hustle continues despite the new shoes. It becomes more elaborate with extra juts of the chesty hood and further shimmying of the exhaust. 12 miles later, on they way home, it's had enough.

"CHECK ENGINE!" it pleads in neon yellow.

"F&^%*&%)#*^)@*$!"