No, I didn't feel it, or jolt from my sleep to the sound of clinking glassware in my cabinets. But Louisville took a little hit, hopefully not enough to cancel this long-awaited Sunday excursion.
My running buddy Ric, who traveled to Fort Lauderdale to catch The Boss and his E Street buddies, wasn't as lucky, given the sad passing of Danny Federici. All weekend shows were obviously postponed. I don't think anyone could imagine an outfit that tight hitting the stage immediately after a longtime comrade died.
I'm still sick, and a week from my Texas deadline. Given the cooperation I've received from my sinuses so far this week, I expect to be all stuffed up for Neko Case tonight when she comes into town with The New Pornographers. The pop-rock stylings of the NPs strike a hard contrast with Case's country-folk torch songs, and with Austinites Okkervil River opening the show, this aims to be the best twin bill I've seen in 2008.
As for me, there's little of substance. The car's prepped for the run to Mizzou for the rural healthcare journalism pow-wow in two weeks.
Tickets are ordered for Bonnaroo and the Pitchfork Festival. And for Comfest as well. Vacation days need to be scheduled.
Memorial Day is a tabula rasa, and the weekend before is a sad anniversary of times never to be recapture.
God is in his Heaven, and Paddy's down by the Bay ... well, that line comes from the greatest Irish punk rock song of all time. But it's about a certain "Sick Bed," so it felt appropriate.
No comments:
Post a Comment