From: owner-fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org (fegmaniax-digest) To: fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org Subject: fegmaniax-digest V7 #277 Reply-To: fegmaniax@smoe.org Sender: owner-fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk fegmaniax-digest Thursday, July 16 1998 Volume 07 : Number 277 Today's Subjects: ----------------- Essaymaniax [Gary Sedgwick ] Loud Family in-store in DC! (fwd) [dmw ] Re: Essaymaniax [MARKEEFE@aol.com] Re: Muggins (techno/Eb/prog duds) [Danielle ] From here to Puget Sound [Capuchin ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 16 Jul 1998 14:40:11 +0100 From: Gary Sedgwick Subject: Essaymaniax As a long time subscriber albeit permanent lurker for the last few months (I've stated that for all the newbies who've probably never received a post from me), I feel I've got the right to chip in on the Eb vs. debate, especially when it seems that 90% of my digests are taken up with this topic and I'm considering if it's worthwhile staying on the list... What is it with these mammoth personal analysis / attack posts??? It ISN'T INTERESTING to most of us. Take it off list. And more to the point, if you feel you really must, START IT OFF LIST. The problem with these things is, once they go public with Eb this and Eb that, Eb feels he should defend himself publicly as well (which I think most of us would too), and then it just escalates. And on a related but slightly different note, if someone says something like "Heard a couple of Dead tracks and haven't got any time for them whatsoever" (my own opinion as a matter of fact), it ain't personal - it doesn't mean I'm publicly announcing that everyone on the list should be ashamed of themselves if they're ever caught listening to something I've put down, it's just an opinion. Eb's very opinionated, but I don't leap in with "Oh, so Radiohead are overrated, eh? Haven't you heard the My Iron Lung EP? How dare you say the songs are boring and Thom's voice is..." when he puts down a band that I really like (sorry Eb, I know you haven't *put down* Radiohead), as most people on the list I have respect for wouldn't either. And if you really, REALLY have to defend your favourite band, mail Eb off list - in my experience, you'll get a reasoned thought-out reply. Although, from what I've seen recently, defending the band hasn't been the issue with these Eb attacks as much as one-upmanship. STOP taking comments so personally. STOP treating this list like it's a popularity poll. IT'S BORING!!! I hope people get the message and it will be one of the last posts on this subject. And if you have to express your disagreement with what I've said, mail me OFF LIST!!!!!!! ************************************************************* Right, and now for something completely different... can someone copy a Gloss Fish for me? I'm not on the permanent tape tree yet (as I'm in Berlin till October), but I don't want to miss out. Also, I'd like to get hold of the Xmas party tapes (or preferably DAT). Mail me off list if you can help. Thanks, Gary ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 16 Jul 1998 21:02:40 -0400 (EDT) From: dmw Subject: Loud Family in-store in DC! (fwd) hey there fegheads -- if y'all can stop arguin' about mystery flat's right to live or lack thereof for half a mo', i'd like to fall sobbing on my knees and beg and plead and prostrate myself to get as many of you as can to show up for the Loud Family's free in-store performance next tuesday, as detailed below. i'm sorta promoting it, y'see, but we got confirmation too late to get much publicity, and i'm ascairt we could not have very many people, which would maximize suckitude. so anyway. i know some of youse already like scott miller/loud family/game theory. i ain't seen this incarnation of the band live yet, but i hear reliably that it's the most solid live band yet for the Family (and it sure sounds it on their rockin' new disc). for those of you who haven't heard 'em, power-pop drived, but much more experimental and less narrow in focus than the words "power pop" ever imply. smarter, too. know the value of a good hook. wonderful people. longer anti review or two at pcaverns. the perfect post neutral milk hotel dc appearance feg activity, in other words. i devoutly hope to see some of youse there. details follow: pertickalers: DCDC 2423 18th street northwest, washington dc 20009 (in adams morgan, a couple blocks south of columbia road, a mediumish walk (15-20 min) or a short cab ride from either the dupont circle or woodley park metro stops, both on the red line) 202 588 1810 tuesday july 21st, 1998 5:00 pm. free. tell your friends! no, really, tell your friends. and do bring your wallet, cause the store just rocks. since they opened their doors i'm much more okay with the fact that go! discs is gone... - -- d. p.s. for you skittish suburbian types -- it's easy to get into town late afternoon -- all the traffic is going the other way. parking is admittedly a little tight, but managable, and it's a safe neighborhood -- actually, many of the best restaurants in town are within three or four blocks. p.p.s. if anyone needs directions or anything, e-mail me! i'll be out of email range til mid afternoon tomorrow, but will respond by tomorrow eve. or whenever. - - oh,no!! you've just read mail from doug = dmayowel@access.digex.net - - and dmw@mwmw.com ... get yr pathos at http://www.pathetic-caverns.com/ - - new reviews! tunes, books, flicks, etc. ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 16 Jul 1998 21:20:40 EDT From: MARKEEFE@aol.com Subject: Re: Essaymaniax In a message dated 98-07-16 20:27:56 EDT, Gary spoke: << What is it with these mammoth personal analysis / attack posts??? It ISN'T INTERESTING to most of us. Take it off list. And more to the point, if you feel you really must, START IT OFF LIST. STOP taking comments so personally. STOP treating this list like it's a popularity poll. IT'S BORING!!! I hope people get the message and it will be one of the last posts on this subject. And if you have to express your disagreement with what I've said, mail me OFF LIST!!!!!! >> Well, since I'm expressing utter and total AGREEMENT, I thought post on-list and just chime in with a me too/you go!/uh-huh endorsement of Gary's posts. I'm a huge promoter of not wanting topics on this list to be restricted, but this is the kind of stuff that's gotten very old and which, despite one's ability to use the "delete" button, taints the overall flavor of the list -- I mean, just seeing subject lines about anti-Eb posts makes me NOT want to read *any* fegmaniax posts, which is usually a very enjoyable part of my day. Thanks. - ------Michael K. ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 16 Jul 1998 18:09:53 -0700 (PDT) From: Danielle Subject: Re: Muggins (techno/Eb/prog duds) Amadain says: > For example, I tell him that confessing to > >a fondness for Emerson Lake and Palmer is utterly sad. > Ah, I didn't know this! Thank you so much! :) Susan, my dear, read the Gondola List oh-so-closely. You'll find a few gems in there to torture him with. ;) Techno time! > "Electronica" or electronic music? Personally I know quite little about > this kind of music and the various naming vagaries, but as I understand it > electronica was a name for a very small segment of this genre, in fact, I > only ever really heard it used to describe Prodigy and The Chemical > Brohters, now that I think of it. I mean, "drum and bass" is called "drum > and bass", "industrial" is called "industrial", whatever and so forth, but > "Electronica" is the thing that is supposed to have not taken off. It's an > invented name for a small sliver of this pie, and I don't know quite which > sliver it's supposed to describe, only that this isn't supposed to mean > that there is no market for electronic music in the US, and you can stop > talking about what barbarians we all are now :). Oh piffle. Sorry, I thought I was back on the Costello list, where folks greet mention of the Beastie Boys with some trepidation. ;) I'm a little hypersensitive about this as a result. I was expecting 'it isn't *real* music! they don't play *real* instruments!' any second... :) As Chris said, 'electronica' is a marketing term for the entire dance boom, as far as I can work out. > Incidentally, house music was invented in Chicago. Just so you know, you, > you, KIWI :). Ha. I give Chicago its due. Reeeeespect, and word, and all that. But the impression I get is that techno is a sort of sideline genre in the States, whereas down here it - or its influenced genres - play in every cafe, take up over half the playlist on student radio stations, more gigs play with DJs, international and local, than with bands... I mean, this is big biccies, as we say down here. Am I wrong about its place in the US market? I'm perfectly willing to be corrected. :) Ebby got all antsy and said: Dan'l Boomed: > I tell him that >no one should admit to liking a band whose members wore capes without >irony. ;) > Fine. Just SEE if I make you that tape of The > Six Wives of Henry VIII. I think I've probably heard enough Rick Wakeman to last me a lifetime. But thanks for thinking of me. Made me feel all warm inside. And just see if I bring *you* a present in two weeks' time. ;p~ > And don't I know a certain Kiwi with a fondness > for Jethro Tull? And can't we add some bonus > points there, for bands who also wear TIGHTS > without irony? Jethro Tull is better because: 1) If you want to bop along, playing air flute looks *way* better than playing air *organ*. 2) Tull never had three huge trucks with their name emblazoned on the top during their overblown stadium tours. Points for lack of pretentiousness. 3) Importantly: tights versus capes. One could argue that Anderson's penchant for lycra (or seventies equivalent) sprang from a practical desire to leap about easily on stage. Can we argue that for ELP? Does wearing a cape help one's keyboard skills? Do *you* wear a cape when you play the piano, Ebby? I think *not*. Wankery, pure and simple. I do not concede. Your prog-of-choice is tackier than my prog-of-choice. So there. ;) Danielle, wondering if the yellow-striped shirt is meant to be 'ironic' or just plain appalling :) _________________________________________________________ DO YOU YAHOO!? Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 16 Jul 1998 19:18:20 -0700 (PDT) From: Capuchin Subject: From here to Puget Sound When trying to send a message the other day, I found this in my postponed-messages folder. Sorry. Better late than never? =========== I swear I'm going to do my very best to keep this short but I'm already on a roll. Couple weeks back, we had ourselves a Robyn Hitchcock concert here in Portland. I brought a whole bunch of friends and we hung out with a whole bunch of fegs. As I get older, I find my different groups of friends meld with one another much more easily than they did when I was younger. Fegs and friends alike had a pretty good time, even though they kept to opposite ends of the table. We got to the Aladdin early enough to pick up that one extra ticket that we hadn't planned well enough in advance to buy and get a pretty good place in line (maybe four people ahead of us?). Nathan and Karen and Carole and Ian and Kathy and Postal Karen and I hung out and chatted a little before the show then went inside. Eddie popped up moments later, then JBJ. Michael K. and his lovely wife Liz showed moments after that. We took up the entire second row. There was a fat 11 year old kid in the front row. Some guy named Ben that apparently the Reichsteins know in some roundabout way openned for Robyn. He kind of stunk. OK, he wasn't bad per se, but he wasn't really worth hearing for an hour. He was a competent guitar player and a steady vocalist. His lyrics were fairly trite and his songs sounded an awful lot alike. All in all, there are probably a few hundred people in town that could have substituted adequately. I have to give the guy props for one thing, though: The night after the Robyn show, he hung out at some dive bar that Sayer frequents called The Jolly Inn. Anybody that hangs out in the creepy places Sayer frequents gets a point in my book. I guess Sayer met the guy there. Weird. So Sayer met somebody who knows Robyn. It is indeed a very small world. Robyn came out in green pants and the black shirt with white spots (or is it a white shirt with a very large black half-tone screen printed on it?). He played some songs. The usual stories, for the most part. Trilobyte and the like. He did tell this fantastic tale of making coffee right before playing 1974 just so that someone would get the hint and bring him some coffee. Conspicuous mentioning of coffee thoughout the story. The first line of the song (You've got two coffees, one of them is one coffee too many for you on a health kick ... or something like that) was strongly emphasized as well. This song is barely growing on me. I'm the opposite of most people. I'm barely starting to like 1974, but could listen to Trilobyte all day long. Robyn also played Unsettled. This kind of blew my mind. I'd never (in my very difficult to predict recollection) heard that song live and was curious to hear if the lyrics were the same as Globe Of Frogs or entirely invented. Wow. He uses all the same words that are on the album, but he rearranged some of the lines and a few of the words within the lines. I thought it was a flub and a masterful cover without repeating any of the same words or lines. More to come on this. However, the song ended with this massive jam and Robyn repeating "How does it feel?" over and over. Ian leaned over to me and, knowing exactly where my musical knowledge falls short, informed me that it was a Bob Dylan thing. Eddie insisted this was one of the coolest things he'd ever seen Robyn perform. Can someone post the setlist? There were some doozies. He played Madonna Of The Wasps solo acoustic. No folk intro, though. The set, like most Robynshows of late, got progressively better as the show wore on. The last half was marked with Robyn plugging in his acoustic (never once touching the second guitar sitting on stage) and playing some really great stuff. He played Insanely Jealous ("I usually do this one with Kimberly Rew."). There were other Soft Boys songs... My mind is fading right now. I think three in total? Maybe two in Portland and three in Seattle. He played an encore in the lizard shirt. It was pretty cool. I think someone didn't turn the house lights on when they should have and Robyn got roped into playing a second encore. He came out and did one song; I Often Dream Of Trains. That was that. Us fegs tried to go to Dot's, but as the show ended so early (10:30?), Dot's was crowded. We headed downtown to Ringler's instead (losing Paul Montagne in the process, bum luck). We ate and drank. The waitress gave me the usual hell (why is it waitresses decide I'm OK to give hell?). We had a great chat. JBJ and my friend Karen discussed the joys of being federal agents. I told my now infamous "There is a house on fire in the middle of I-5! What the fuck?!?" story. I'd better stop attending feggatherings. You guys are going to hear all my best stories. Then what will I be? Turns out that JBJ had some inlaws show up at the last minute and had to cancel his Seattle trip. That sucked, but it gave me a very cozy place to sleep (Cynthia's spare room) and a really boring ride home alone on the train. I'm lame and didn't pack at all for Seattle. Eddie and Cynthia came back to my tiny little hole in Portland I threw some things in a bag. I gave Postal Karen my keys for catfeeding while I was gone. She did a damn fine job. My cat is still alive. We left and drove to Seattle. The trip up was uneventful. Mostly because I was asleep in the backseat the whole way. I just remember eddie asking about some freeway off-ramp in North Portland (the part nobody really ever needs to visit) and I couldn't answer. Then I lay down and looked up to see a West Seattle exit. That's about as uneventful as a thing can be in my life. Cynthia's burb box was unharmed in its place near King Station. We went back to her place and I fell promptly to sleep (again). I guess something can be less eventful. I guess I got to see the Space Needle this time. The next day was a different story. Cynthia's kindness should be legendary. I don't know if it is, or anything, but it should be. Thanks to Lobsterman's untimely guests, I had a very comfortable futon in the spare bedroom. Cynthia was very kind when she told me that my apartment was like the guest room. My apartment is a much bigger mess. But there were similarities: A lone futon, a computer, random hardware components strewn about, more desks than necessary. Where I have my trumpet and someone else's trombone, she's got a piano. Oh yeah, and her guest room is a mere half the size of my apartment (That is, ahem, my whole apartment). After an unreasonably long night's sleep, I got up and waded through Scandanavians mowing and watering their lawns to reach a bus stop. Call it home town pride, but I think the buses are better in Portland. But boyo, that underground bus tunnel thing is fun. Went to that Pike Street Public Market thing... I wonder if perhaps its all tourists down there. I, for one, am rather bored of the place. I mean, I go to Portland Saturday Market maybe twice in a season (once just after it opens and once for Christmas shopping). I can't imagine that the market is really useful to folks who LIVE in Seattle. Maybe folks go down there and get their fresh fish... and maybe the produce is reasonably priced (not to my eyes, but what do I know?) and that would make it cool for shoppers once a week. But I still don't understand why it's always so crowded. I'm not saying it's not cool, because it is... every six months or so. Oh, and I saw one of the most disturbing things ever while down there. I saw a clean cut, well-groomed little fifteen year old suburban girl with her jocko boyfriend. That's all well and good. And yeah, I'm used to seeing this type of girl walking around in tight jeans and those ultra-tiny t-shirts with silly, sometimes suggestive slogans. I kind of dig the ones that say things like "Girls kick ass." and my friend Rachel once bought one in my presence that said "Superstar" or something in that icky silver 1979 sparkle lettering. But this girl... I don't see how her parents let her out of the house. And she didn't even seem like the shock-value lovin' kind of person. Her shirt said "Porn Star". Yipes. Now, I have nothing against shirts or even porn stars (after all, porn makes more money in this country than all rock and country music sales combined), but this floored me. I wonder if perhaps there is a kind of person that wants people to think ill of them because they're fed nothing but compliments by their suburban parents. Or it could be that attention is attention for good or ill and the kid gets none at home. Or maybe she really is a porn star and just looks really young (thus massively increasing her income, I would imagine). For some reason I don't want to go into too much detail about my day in Seattle. I bought a new yo-yo at FAO Schwarz. I went to some music shops (not record stores, music shops). Oh! I had this great idea whilst in Seattle. Let me share. You know how pawn shops always have tons of musical instruments of dubious origin, ambiguous quality and questionable price? Well, most of those places just take a look at the condition and quality of the instrument, judge the desperation of the seller, and make an offer. They turn around and sell the instrument at some markup based on a book or something. Anyway, they almost never take all of the accessories into acount. So ehre's the deal, if you're looking for a particular accessory, ask to look through all the cases for all the musical instruments in their stock. Since the shop doesn't really know what's in there and isn't basing their selling price on anything other than the instrument itself, they'll almost always part with the accessories for next to nothing. Me, I'm always looking for mutes for my trumpet. Mutes can be spendy. Anyway, I went to some pawn shop in Seattle and found a fairly nice mute and paid like five bucks for it. Saved at least thirty. Beautiful. Anyway, eventually I made my way up to the Crocodile Cafe and rejoined Cynthia and the newly arrived Carole for the long drive north (not due north... we call it north... it's northerly -- amazing kudos to the one that places that reference) to eddie's restaurant. It was indeed a long drive. I'm guessing it took at least an hour, maybe longer, in just after rush hour traffic. We followed a long line of folks waiting for ferries to the islands (could you imagine commuting by boat?). Eventually we found the Marco Polo. There was one free table in the place. When we left, all the tables were free. Hoo boy. Now, I love our eddie to death (even if he is a dirty, lazy socialist), so don't take this the wrong way, but I was SURE that he wasn't an actual waitperson at this restaurant of his. I guess I couldn't imagine him keeping his cool with all of those people. I still can't imagine, even though I've seen him at work (but I've only seen that one night, dammit! That's not proof enough! It just can't friggin' BE!), eddie not getting too involved in each conversation... not becoming irate when the casual dinner conversation virges on political... not taking things just a step beyond a step too far and really pissing someone off. (By the way, I'm pretty sure eddie's laughing his ass off right now and not at all plotting my demise. Those of you who know eddie will either understand or think I'm being cruel. Probably both.) Anyway, there he was. White shirt, bow tie, horn rims and no hair. Eddie was waiting on adoring customers. And O how they adore him! There's a painting of the man over the register. He waves to people in the parking lot... and they smile! Not out of fear... it's a good-natured smile... a welcoming and feeling welcome smile. It's incredible. By the way, the food was really great. I'm poor now and have been for about a year, but this is the kind of place I would go to all the time if I were wealthy again and... err... if I lived north of Seattle (northerly, rather). The dishes are all well-made and not at all gimicky. I say that because the Marco Polo is food from the journey of Marco Polo and includes a couple of Italian dishes, various middle eastern choices from a variety of regions, some extra tastey Indian food, and a touch of Chinese faire. I'm impressed that a restaurant can pull of such diverse foods with so much class and comfort. The food is wonderfully fresh (I have it on good authority that the chef is one of the finest on the west coast) and delicious. I made an absolute pig of myself. Carole and Cynthia were appalled. And damn do I love baba ganoush. We did, by the way, have one dish with prawns. Curried if I recall. It was appropriate, I think. We did opt for dessert. I had some cleansing and very fresh (and acidic as can be!) kiwi sorbet. Cynthia had the baklava (eddie's favorite, I think). Carole risked the rosewater ice cream. I stole a taste. It was divine. Dear lord. Goodness. Rosewater ice cream. Ack! I made a comment about the ice cream that Cynthia found sweet and I think disturbed Carole quite a bit. I said, "It's the kind of thing you'd like your girlfriend to eat before the two of you head home." I still stand by that remark. If I'm ever on a date way up there, you know where our last stop before retiring will be. Enough restaurant review. Let it suffice to say that if eddie invites you to his restaurant, go. Don't blink. Just go. And no, I didn't tip him... even though I wanted to see him try to slash Cynthia's tires. The drive back to Seattle took less time than the drive out by a fair bit. We parked. We walked to the Croc. We made it in plenty of time. The Crocodile Cafe looked much like I left it last summer. It was stuffy and crowded. The devil guy was there and annoying as ever. It was time to go a-feghunting. Mostly, I was looking for Renee and the Deboras. I didn't see too many of the usual fegcrowd, which surprised me. But I have no idea how much hype the show had there in town. Just before leaving for the Portland show the previous night, Kathy turned on the radio and heard the DJ running down the night's events around town. She said something like "Oh and hey... Robyn Hitchcock is playing at the Aladdin at seven... I didn't know about that... And here I am working..." so it looks like the press machine isn't always what it should be. So there were a few Microsoft fegs I know, but it wasn't until eddie showed up a few minutes behind us that Renee and the Deboras were located (by eddie, in fact). First was Renee. She's really cool. She's pretty darned smart which earns about forty of a possible fifty in my book. She's also none too new to the ways of the yo-yo which earns her another eighty-seven. I hope she doesn't die in Russia. Debora is almost exactly as I imagined her (I think Bayard is as I imagined... and JBJ is the same, but taller... Mark Gloster is the same, but not as charming or clever... I think everyone else has been a complete shock). I'm terribly sorry I had to turn down their invite to sleep over at their Ballard apartment (the Deboras, I mean). I look forward to hanging out with Debora next time I'm in Seattle. I might even make you scrub your mice again. Vince (Mr. Debora) is very cool, too... except he likes Rush and Queensryche... but he does say "crunchy guitars" which is nifty. Renee and I were discussing shows and how many we'd attended simultaneously without ever meeting (my guess is about ten). She asked about the Portland show. She said she couldn't make it, but her sister and nephew did attend. "Did you see my nephew? He's like 14... kind of heavy kid." HA! Yep... fat kid sat right in front of us. Apparently he's a huge Robyn fan. I hope he's very popular and many kids at his school emulate his good taste. Eventually the show began. Some fratboy with a guitar opened. He wasn't any fun at all. Maybe I just don't know good music when I hear it. Maybe I'm too interested in things that are interesting. I was bored and actually considered hanging out at the back throughout the show. Robyn came on and shattered that idea post haste. I weasled my way up through the crowd and found a relatively nice standing point... but there were tons of talking drunks in the audience so it was only so-so. Does anyone know what's changed at the Croc? Boyo, the sound was good! I can only hope it's a permanent change and that it shows up on the tapes, because golly! It was so clean and bright and warm. The setlist was nearly the same. Robyn was dressed almost the same, but different pants... I think purple this time and green in Portland? reverse that? One way or the other. Robyn did this thing where he combed the longest bit of his hair almost down over his face... he looked like that in Portland, too... To me, Robyn's the kind of guy that looks better in short hair, but doesn't consdier himself a short-hair guy. Does that make sense? Anyway, his hair's been doing funny things of late. So this long bit that's combed almost down just happens to be right in the way of this big fan they've put on stage to keep the man cool (it was pretty warm that day in Seattle... the Croc wasn't unbearable, though). Robyn's trying to play a guitar and sing and this bit of hair is flipping everywhere. I'm pretty sure he made a comment about it. What is it with folks that don't know song titles? I'm not ripping on Eb with this, I promise. I mean folks that shout out weird random lyrics to a song as if it's the tile and expect Robyn to respect them and comply. It happened in San Francisco when someone shouted "Ice Cream Hands!" in an embarassing attempt to request Flavour Of Night. Someone tried to request One Long Pair Of Eyes at the Seattle show but shouted out something ludicrous... I don't remember what it was, just that I was offended and embarassed. Was it "Lone Norwegian Shore!"? Something stupid like that, anyway. Robyn did, in fact, play One Long Pair Of Eyes. He played it at the point in the set where he played Maddona Of The Wasps in Portland. Correct me if I'm wrong (and oh, I'm sure you will), but I don't think he did Insanely Jealous in Seattle. He did do Queen of Eyes. All in all, the show was really good. But I'm kind of wondering a few things. It felt like the stories in Seattle were forced while in Portland, they were spontaneous. Is that because they were fresh for me in Portland and just more or less repeated in Seattle or is it because Robyn was simply drawing on what he said the night before and not putting much thought into it? Now, I know the stories for some songs are almost always the same... Trilobyte, for example, is the same little tale of mislabeled bones and shaving equipment with new names an interesting quirk or two, but it almost seemed as if Robyn was just pulling up details from last night's show and not really working on his toes as much. Do other people that attend multiple consecutive shows feel this? I've been doing the consecutive show thing now for about two years and I'm trying to come up with an instance where the stories were more bright and interesting in the second telling... I know there must be instances. Oh... Robyn used two words that shocked me during the show. One I don't recall, so you're all fucked and I'll have to tell you after I hear the tape (but by then it'll be too late because everyone that cares will have heard the tape and therefore the word by then, too). The other was "dis". I don't know what it is, but I can't quite accept that into my vocabulary. Robyn said something like "And your bones feel terribly dissed." It just weirded me out. OK... so the show ended and we hung out for a bit. I chatted with Bjorn and Bjorn's friend whose name I always forget (Peter?). I then recalled a couple of important things: Fegfoto and Randi Spiegel. I told Bjorn I had to split. Robyn appeared to just walk back through the crowd and out the door after the show, but apparently he went backstage. This was at that time when, from what Carole told me, Robyn didn't know that Randi didn't have his address. Someone had to talk to the man. I did what I could to find Robyn, but he wasn't coming back up (as he had at the Crocodile Cafe in teh past). In the end, I had to tell the whole story to some security guy and ask if he could deliver a little note. He said he'd try. Carole had an ATM receipt... that part was funny. Carole wrote in tiny red letters "Ignore this. There is a message on the other side." on the front of the receipt and handed it to me. I slapped the slip on a pillar and composed a brief message. Something like: Randi Spiegel, your video producing friend of Toronto, Canada, has lost your current mailing address. She has a package and proposal to send to you, but no way of reaching you directly. If you could contact her soon, she would be very pleased. -- Friends of Randi Something like that. Unfortunately, neither Carole nor I had Randi's vital info with us at the time and couldn't include a telephone number or address to respond, so it could have been a pointless note unless Robyn's address book is complete and omnipresent. The security boy said he'd do what he could and went back behind the kitchen area. Through this door, I could very clearly see Peter Buck standing around in a dark blue silk shirt and holding a drink. He didn't look sickly as he did at Viva SeaTac II. He actually looked quite well and healthy and happy. I think Carole noted this as well. I assumed he was talking with Robyn, but the security guy seemed to disappear for quite a while. Now, I told him it was cool if he didn't pass the note on, but could he please let me know either way. I can't imagine he had reason to lie to me. He came back and tapped me on the shoulder and said "You're in luck." That's about that. I hope that means Randi got the message and all was good. We took a quick photo under the Employees Only sign and had to split up for the night. Renee had a friend and a hotel. The Deboras had mice and a futon. Eddie, Cynthia, Chris, Carole and I had ice cream and a long talk. Walking back to the car, we encounted a drunk. That was kind of fun. Some silly fellow came walking down the street toward us and, with no provocation or even sign of anger, punched a while in a storefront window. I resisted every temptation to punch a whole in the top of the same pane and say something like "See? And I'm sober!" What a dork. I think it freaked out Cynthia a little, though. She just stayed quiet and quickened her pace. When we circled back in the Rover, eddie was nowhere to be found. I remembered vaguely that he said he'd parked on first, so we circled around to find him. After deciding it was pointless, we headed toward Cynthia's. Carole said "Do you even know what kind of car he drives?" I said "That one!" Sure enough, eddie was driving alongside us. Carole rolled down the window and told him to follow us. Back at the ranch (ok, Cynthia's house in Ballard), Chris was waiting with ice cream and peaches (they were out of bananas). We ate ice cream and talked about all manner of cool things. I told my "A Very Tall Girl And The _Legendary_ Jeme Brelin" story. I think I'm going to have to stop attending feggatherings. I'm going to run out of stories soon. I'm going to run out of good ones, anyway. You know I'm running low when I tell a story that necessarily involves falling out of my chair. Sleep came down. The next morning was relaxing and nice. I don't think anyone even tried to wake me for the ride to Portland. That disappointed me a little. I was looking forward to the train ride with Carole. Instead, I ate eggs with Cynthia and Chris and we talked about the news and movies. I found out that I'm an optimist. Who knew? Then a terribly stupid catastrophe occured and Cynthia and Chris ran to the hospital. I walked to a bus and barely made it to the train station in time for the last train to Portland. The ride was long and dull. I had to watch a hideous John Grisham movie and eat microwaved pasta. There is no bookstore or even a magazine rack at King Station. I read the newspaper (again). Bah. Oh hey, the kids in front of me on the train were running away from home. The girl was possibly underage and had never been outside of Washington (maybe never outside Seattle). The boy was older and obviously more sure of himself. I overheard a courteous Amtrak employee refer to the couple as "Jerry Springer Rejects". Apparently she's going to call home and tell them she's in Idaho. Oh, and I arrived in Portland three minutes after the sushi place closed. Postal Karen had my keys and was out on a date. I happened to see Sayer's car in Old Town and sat on top of it until I could go pick up my keys. Some day I'm going to catch up with that person who goes through so much trouble to make my life interesting. J. ________________________________________________________ J A Brelin Capuchin ________________________________________________________ ------------------------------ End of fegmaniax-digest V7 #277 *******************************