Got to go out and see a show tonight. Finally. For the first time in forever, I got to go see music and not play myself.
Did that sentence make sense? I assure you it did.
Anywho, tonight Heather picked me up from Amy’s new house and took me out to the Vault to see the Dreamscapes Project. Now, of course, there was the business side – we’re playing there next week, and we passed out flyers and put up posters and whatnot – but it was awesome to go some place and … well, I’d never say that I don’t like being the centre of attention – but I didn’t have to be “on”, which was really pleasant.
The Dreamscapes Project was incredible, as usual. Again, the band is just carried by Keith’s stage presence… well, floor presence tonight. Keith has the energy, and the sheer charisma, as well as the business acumen to REALLY be a rockstar. I was watching him tonight – and there’s part of me that feels very aware of watching him pull strings. There are these visible actions, almost scripted for the sake of the audience – but then tonight especially – I was thinking how I wish I could think things through like he does. He knows what he wants, and methodically he figures out how to make that thing happen. I Love chatting with Keith online, and just imagining the wheels turning in his head.
We also met another act, Infuseon, who met my heavy metal needs. They did a spectacular cover of Tool’s “Sober” and Jimmie’s Chicken Shack’s “Dropping Anchor”. I wish I could’ve opened up and really thrashed aboot in a pleasantly active fashion, but … alas, I am just too reserved.
We checked out the Funk Box last night. Awesome. I know where I want to play. Somehow, we’re going to go play the Funk Box. Angie Aparo’s going to be there… we want to be there… we want to get into the Funk Box.
The Funk Box, once upon a time, was the 8×10 – a well-known venue with weird interior visibility issues, kind of okay sound, and really decent name recognition…
Their open mic was popular enough that people would line up outside for two hours before doors opened – musicians lined up in the cold, sort of making friends, and then finally rushing the guy who opens the door – cajoling frozen fingers to sign names on the list… I did it a couple of times, but I have no memory of why. I don’t remember it being THAT cool – but there was a sense of community – perhaps just because we were pulled together by our outdoor angst…
I wondered what the Funk Box would be like – and that was the purpose of last night – go check it out. We were scouts. (yes, I know that when I fill the space with text or whatever, that it can get a bit confusing… and so I introduce a new style tonight – CaptionText! whee!!!)
Anywho, the Funk Box is beautiful. Awesome sound, awesome space, awesome stage, awesome fries. I was very happy. We ran into a lot of people I knew from Ellicott City and my time in Baltimore, and met a lot of new people. It looks like it’ll be a very fun place to just hang out – even better to play.
SO sleepy. And of course, sleep eludes me. My brain is too whirly-full of fur and fuzz and thoughts. Dressing up as Marilyn Monroe, cicadas, a woman from tonight’s show, Nefrit’s rhythms, Keith’s banter… Keith’s hair, plans and schedules and the spectacular complexity of Life.
Life. Don’t talk to me about Life.
Tonight’s gig at Jammin Java was scrumptious. It left Heather and I in a lot of pain, but it was worth it. We got a decent response to our performance (and I saw a couple of faces that I wasn’t expecting, but was really glad to see – Ari: thanks for your table-full of creatures… and Cox? Thanks for your heads.
Brennan was filling my skull with dreams and possibilities, and now my inner gears won’t stop mulling and churning and burning the mindnight oil.
Sara brought us cicadas, and Keith cut his hair. And Nefrit El-Or continues to make my interior rhythms whirl to different dances. I can never sleep after her shows, and I have no place to retreat to and play guitar till the sun comes up. No place to let it out.
My head is full and pounding and I never know how to just
Also, I am CONVINCED that when they fixed my laptop, they installed an upgraded, and more difficult, version of Solitaire. I haven’t won a game since I got it back. CURSE the insomnia that has allowed me to discover this treachery!