can i take a nap now? how about now?

Two days of no sleep IN A ROW. You’d think I was some sort of rock star. Hmmm, maybe I am! We went to see Weird Al at the State Theatre on Thursday. YES. Weird Al. HEY! Stop laughing. He’s a comic superhero! I smiled the whole time. I was even lucky enough to get serenaded before the night was through – I Wanna Be Your Lover, even. Truth be told, I am harboring a little crush. He is kinda, well, um, I’m just gonna say it… he's kinda SEXY.

M got hit on the head with a plastic cup there. When he went to Primus, also at the State Theatre, a big piece of curtain fabric fell on his head. INTERESTING trend, don’t you think?

After, drinks and plates of golden, glistening fried things at Sawatdee. I got DRUNK. We talked. I had a little bit of a hard time walking in a straight line. I was kinda mean to M. Thursday was a LONG day for us. It ended alright though. We’re friends again. Exhale.

Last night wasn’t as fancy. Gone Out Gone at the Terminal Bar. The Terminal might just be one of the most UNfancy live music venues in the entire city. It was a good show though. The GOG boys were a tad bit drunk by the time they played. And by tad, I mean COMPLETELY drunk. Good old rock n' roll. It was full of slurred intros, karate kicks and bumping into each other.

I can’t help imagining bands practice when I see them. Working out their set lists and cool stage moves. How they write songs. I try to guess if they have a space or if they set up in the drummer’s mom’s basement out in Coon Rapids or something. I especially try to figure out if they are friends. Do they fight at practice? Which one is the brat? Which one is the mastermind? Do they dream of being famous like J dreams of being a superhero?

I remember a part in Catcher In The Rye where Holden goes to see a show at Rockefeller Center and there is a midget riding a unicycle and swallowing fire – he can’t enjoy the show because he keeps imagining him PRACTICING to do that. It wrecks it for him. Riding around some warehouse, falling off his unicycle, burning his tongue, wearing tight sparkly pants. The ridiculousness of it all is too much.

It’s not like that with my weird band practice ponderings. They don’t ruin the show for me. Rather it adds a little something. And after each set, I always think I have it figured it out. I pick out the brat. I pick out the ring leader. I pick out the guy who just shows up. I feel sure that they like each other or that they don’t. That they are all gonna go home after this, or that they are all gonna stick around and drink more beer.

I’m at the shop. Hence the page long ramblings about almost nothing. It’s only 8:30 a.m. YaWn.

Wish I had a pillow.