Monday, June 30, 2008


As some of you know, last week featured a surgical strike to Manhattan to meet up with the Jestaplero and crew to catch Liz Phair's special Hiro Ballroom show performing Exile in Guyville. It was great fun meeting up with Jack, Esmith, and Lydia the tattoo-less Lady for some pre-show Nip food. The conversation was fun, it was great hanging out with people who are all grown-ups, but are all still, in some way, childishly in love with the Rock and Beatles-ey, studio and music-mag yapping. Good times. The show was then just effing great. To my surprise, I must admit. The tunes on the album have held up, if not improved, and the performances were just what I wanted and then some. JestplEsmith were then kind enough to put me up; my guilt at mid-week late night staying made me not the *most* fun guy, but I was having a ball.

nevertheless, there were times when I mentally declared "I'm over this place."

"I'm over New York."

Well, that was pure horsehit.

I'm over marching around for two days with a backpack and a wool jacket, in early-summer city heat. I'm over running errands uptown, and then racing to do something [and arriving late] in the Village. I'm over sweating and being hot and being fat. I'm over being old.

But I think I'm still quite fond of the rock, and of my friends, and of the town to the north

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