I'm Only Getting Stronger. You May Have Noticed.
I drank loads and loads of coffee this morning, and I brewed it too strong, and in addition I steeped it with this yerba mate tea that I've been drinking. The mate tea (Yes, I left out the accent, so just read it as mah-teh or what-have-you regardless.) has this earthy almost vulgar taste to it and so I always think tempering it with another drink will lead to sure-fire hot beverage success but it is mostly hit or miss and I usually need to add near tons of sugar, which I consider to be cheating. So it was that and hummus and egg on bread, and then, bam, round two o' the clock there was all of a sudden this jewelry hammer at the front of my skull starting to try and blacksmith out the One True Ring against my forehead, which was unfortunate, believe me. See, all morning I had been lapsing in my sworn duties to create/clean/cook, but it was all in vivid anticipation of truly wreaking good havoc in the afternoon, and, well, this headache just really messed me over. And I don't get headaches very often at all, and I consume much caffeine or so I'd like to think, but this apparently took things too far and my synapses are in revolt. Viva La Revolucion! Except I don't speak Spanish or French really at all, so probably there are errors in that bit of anarchistic pride. But I took one of those little blue tablets I buy at Walmart every now and then when I think I need to stock a medicine cabinet, and then I got a nudging that said I wanted to listen to not only Atom but also His Package, so of all the things to listen to when one's head is being techy (Tetch-Ee), those sorts of stuttering beeps and the exclamations and churning simple chords, well, those aren't what you'd aim for, but I think my head is getting better.
But you know who does speak Spanish and French and Italian and Hebrew? Jonathan Richman does. Go find your sweet Bippy. Bet her that. You'll make an easy tenner out of it. I think Saturday night was something along the third or fourth time I'd seen him, and he, I think, escalates in charm by several x-ponential degrees each time. Which is pretty amazing. And I'm not even good at math, but I can do those sorts of calculations in my head when he is up on stage in a good striped shirt and he throws his hands out to the crowd and, yes, he swings those hips, and the guitar swings with them a bit, and I look over at the girl next to me and she looks back and we sort of nod but don't look much longer at each other because Jonathan is much more interesting at the moment. I like to imagine that time when he actually must have been in the Lesbian bar, and what that must have been like. Sweet Lord, I bet they adored him.
But you know who does speak Spanish and French and Italian and Hebrew? Jonathan Richman does. Go find your sweet Bippy. Bet her that. You'll make an easy tenner out of it. I think Saturday night was something along the third or fourth time I'd seen him, and he, I think, escalates in charm by several x-ponential degrees each time. Which is pretty amazing. And I'm not even good at math, but I can do those sorts of calculations in my head when he is up on stage in a good striped shirt and he throws his hands out to the crowd and, yes, he swings those hips, and the guitar swings with them a bit, and I look over at the girl next to me and she looks back and we sort of nod but don't look much longer at each other because Jonathan is much more interesting at the moment. I like to imagine that time when he actually must have been in the Lesbian bar, and what that must have been like. Sweet Lord, I bet they adored him.