I realize that there has been a palpable dearth of positive postings here on Le Maudit and though I am loathe to apologize for anything I say on these here weblog, I do wish to retain my readership and be entertaining not by being a D-pressed loaf of negativity hurling invectives and licking my wounds. So today, April 15, aka Tax Day, a day in which we celebrate the joys of arcane form-filling, I will be positive. For you. And for me too.
Last night I practiced downmind at the S-badoh concert, where I had a few friendly words with Lou. Lou, as I have said before, is perhaps one of my favorite indie rock figures, having driven me home from a concert in the Hamp back in '97. I reminded Lou of this, not expecting him to remember. He studied my face and said that he kind of remembered, so bully points for me, he KIND OF remembered, which is good enough. I was pleased to notice that there were a good number of youngins with black Xs on their hands, as well as the wizened and aging hipsters from the magical land of Back In The Day, a phrase I used with trepidation to Lou's face, but he later exonerated it by using it onstage himself. I failed to get a contact high from all the doobage being smoked in near my personal area.
As I am old and not in the best health, I left right as the first encore was starting up, lamenting that they did not perform Spoiled. Indeed, when they did play some old Sentridoh stuff, it was not acoustic, is was balls-out rockin', and my lungs were starting to protest all the smoke and having to stand. Also, while I am pleased to mention that the premiere indie rock venue of the ATX now has an espresso bar on its premises, and the gals working it had great enthusiasm and hooked me up with a load of whipped cream on my latte, we had some trouble with the proper distribution of change, which turned out a-okay skippy. My beverage was alright, but it was not a $9 latte.
I then hailed a taxi to attend the 30th b-day party of an improviser that I am fond of. He throws bad-ass bashes that, if you are ever invited to, you should attend, because his parties have something for everyone. Like day camp. Soon after I managed to hail a taxi (hailing is something that can be done from downtown on weekends), a pack of drunk, troubled young women in hoochie garments assailed my taxi demanding to be taken home. I told the driver that I would share if they were headed southward, but he shooed them away. I don't think he likes to deal with split fares.
Soon, I realized that my cabbie was from a foreign land, where brakes are only applies a few feet before the bumper of a stopped car, and constant swerving was common practice. "Guess where I am from because of my accent," he encouraged, and I thought about it for about two seconds and said Brazil and was correct. He was very excited that I had guessed correctly, and then asked if it was because I noticed the Brazilian flag he had hanging from the rearview mirror. I had not noticed that and told him so, and he proceeded to tell me all about the Brazilians in Austin. All I could think about was how Sampaio's stiffed me on shrimp in my bobo de camarao last year for my birthday.
I had a fabulous time at the party, witnessing the fine rap stylings of Terp and having another mindblowing conversation with Fred B. Soon, my fatigued ass was crying for sleep. It was 3am, a time I rarely stay up past, and demanded that Bob consent to going home.
So there you have it, folks. Yesterday was a great day! La vita e bella!
Posted by Zerd at April 15, 2007 01:05 PM