emcee light

i'm at counterculture in front of the wood stove, watching it dwindle down in intensity as lazy snowflakes pitterpatter around outside. rustle of newspaper. beeping fryer alarm. beethoven 'eroica'. throat clearing. fork on plate. refrigerator closing. coffee cup on table. hum of walk-in cooler. jingling of metal bracelets. laughter. chair scrapes. conversation. plate in bus pan.

i'm trying one last time to interest the santa fe reporter in an original comic. if this one doesn't fly i'm going to approach the sun instead; they might even prefer jacko n' noam to the new one (val y shoe--val is a goldfish who lives and cavorts with uncle shoe, my boston chum). we'll see, i guess.

hung out at 2nd street last night with tricia while "celia" from oregon, who'd just rolled through to play for free, serenaded the room. her real persona came out only after a theatrical sidetrip into tiny-tim and librarian characters; the uke lady with freaky hair and child's voice sang a song about dr. bronner's making your "hoo hoo tingle" (which started out really weak, got kinda funny, then went on too long) then the librarian beatboxed and rhymed something. odd. then she became a more normal folky chicksinger with a guitar who looped and had prerecorded harmonies she sang with. not bad. fun to see tricia, though, and post-restorative-yoga lesley stopped by for a spell too.

it's my weekend and i will not be voting. go ahead and reprimand me, as i might just deserve it. i just don't have any faith in this country's political machinery anymore, which i know makes me unqualified to ever complain about the next presidential epoch. there was one candidate who made me hopeful, and when he was ousted for basically not being a multi-millionaire, i resigned as a voter. there it is.