Secret Pop

Jan 7, 2003

Easy Breezy

It was still awfully windy tonight. But warm. I could feel the wind blowing, but I didn't need my jacket at all. I wish I hadn't bothered bringing it.

I went to see Dennis Quaid and his band The Sharks at Cinespace tonight. I think that's what it's called. Cinespace. Cinescape. Cinesnack. Cinecide. Something like that. It was a fun show. Dennis Quaid is remarkably not unlike his protrayal of Jerry Lee Lewis when he gets behind the microphone. He was out there full throttle from the moment he stepped on stage. I noted that he would definitely need a lozenge after the show. Possibly two.

And who would have guessed that so much of the Hollywood crowd that turned out to cheer him on would be dance-happy lesbians? I didn't mind them. Only they were in such dense numbers up near the stage that I could barely see Dennis through them. I actually recognized one blonde woman I remember seeing at the Sunset Room last spring. I have only seen her that one time, but she apparently made an impression on me. Because I recognized her rather mechanical dance style and her long blonde hair immediately. At the Sunset Room, she was heavy into this other blonde woman, who was dancing with a man, who soon realized he was an appendage. I'm surprised I remembered it at all. Doesn't my brain need that space?

I was tired from the moment I picked up my keys to leave, but I still filled the night right up. Fred's 62. Cinespace. Yamashiro's. Nova Express. I'd have gone to a movie, too, only it's late and my nocturnal behavior is screwy enough as it is. And it's a good thing. My upstairs neighbor is playing a guitar right now. I may have to puncture my ear drums if I'm ever to have any rest.

I'll turn in without regret and look forward to a day of getting ahead of it all. Already a week into this 2003. The race is on!

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