"Frightened of this thing that I've become..."

My brain is fried. Marty’s visit is progressing rather nicely, though I am so burning the candle at both ends these days. Last night, Marty, Abbie, a buddy of Abbie’s I’ll call Spike, Raquel & Chauncy and I met up at local karaoke hotspot, The Mint. We drank like fish while listening to both the superb and the god-awful renditions of popular songs that are the backbone of any night at a karaoke bar. Some of us even took the stage ourselves. Here is our party’s set list:

Me:
"(I’m Not your) Steppin’ Stone" by the Monkees and
"Is There Something I Should Know?" by Duran Duran

I thought I performed pretty well--reasonably in tune and with a fair amount of emotion mixed in with just a touch of cheekiness. I know of myself that I’m not the worst singer, but also, by far, not the best.

Chauncy:
"Cruel To Be Kind" by Nick Lowe

...a classic Chauncy pick, aficionado that he is of fine pop form. We both agreed that Nick Lowe is one of the best pop song writers alive.

Marty:
"Africa" by early Eighties ‘Supergroup,’ Toto*
"Dream On" by Aerosmith
"Stayin’ Alive" by the Bee Gees

and I could swear he did a fourth song, but he denies this. I was pretty tipsy, but I really, really thought he’d done four. Anyway, Marty is a natch at karaoke; he has no shame and can deliver--at top volume--an impressive falsetto.

So we stayed at the Mint til about 1:00 am or so (we lost Raquel and Chauncy by about midnight--them being reasonable folks and all), and then Abbie, Marty, me and Spike headed over to the Lucky 13, an über hipster bar a couple blocks up Market Street. We had tequila shots (egads! Is this becoming a habit?) and I ran into an old friend of Mrs. C’s, the sweetest guy ever, Crash. It’s kind of funny, running into people you know in a bar at 1:30 am on a Wednesday--er, Thursday morning. Then Abbie, Marty, and I went to get diner food, which was a good idea, ‘cause it grounded me down from being so sloshed. I was hating myself somethin’ fierce, though, when I looked at my watch and it told me I’d be getting about four hours of sleep before work in the morning. Pretty silly stuff. Anyway, this is the kind of thing that happens when Marty’s in town.

And I’d like to add, officially, that I’m bummed that Marty’s partner in crime, Elvira, wasn’t able to make the trip this time. I haven’t seen her since their wedding in July, and it would have been a ball to have her in on the shenanigans this week. So, hey, Elvira--missing you out here. I hope you’re enjoying your holiday, too.

• • •

There is a whole realm of catch up to do about my job situation, but I’m gonna save it for after Marty leaves. Too much fun to be had, yet. There’s good news, but also it’s a bit daunting. Suffice it to say, there is some forward momentum in my work life, finally, and I’m beginning to see myself pulling it together for the first time in a long, long while. I’ll just leave you with that vaguery for now.

Love you all out there. Hope the springtime is treating you kindly.

Kisses,
Bree

_______________________

*For many years, I’ve held fast to a philosophy about bands which I will share with you now. Bands that are named after cities, states, countries, or continents are, with only one exception, destined to be catastrophically cheesey (sometimes in an endearing way, but cheesey just the same). The exceptional case, in my opinion, is the band Berlin, which stands wholly apart from this bunch stylistically, regardless of whether you like them or not (and I do). But consider any other band named after a geopolitical descriptor of place, and I guarantee that you will find the common thread: they all play epic, schmaltzy, self-congratulatory fluff: Chicago, for instance, or Asia. Europe, or Boston. Go ahead, try it. Alabama, America. Ugh. And I’ve always associated Toto with this same genre, even though Toto is named Toto. But I guess, given that their most popular song was called “Africa” and that one could make the easy association of Toto with the state of Kansas, as in, “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore...” it’s a small leap to make. Did I mention that I hate the band Kansas?

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