[[groovy musics: ]]

12:37 p.m. // 2002-07-15

can I blame my lack of writing on the boy, whose company I am content with and to whom I am happy to tell my little stories to? Or on work, which has gotten worse all this summer, not to mention with Mark leaving and now Peggy, we're down two bodies? come on I should be able to buck up and do it. I mean there's even a hauk.log.

Last night dwayneray and I found out where James lives and what his last name is, which may be like too much information to be revealed at this juncture for someone who has been such a shadowy yet ever-present figure in our lives for a while. Because it was oh kind of remarkable how many people we encounter whose surnames we do not know. We only recently found out Heather's, and I think that was by looking at her mailbox. The mullethawk guy even talked to us the other night, and even though he sang along to the sexpistols playing on a car stereo in the parkinglot, the conversation was something awkward.

Last night went well musicwise even though it seemed like the bands weren't going to show up. Dwayne and I went walking down the block waiting for the show to begin even though only one of the opening acts was there, and found a car weaving lost-like around the 7-11 parking lot. we didn't think it could be any touring musician-types because it was a station wagon with stuff loaded on top, but it was, six or something women jammed in with their gear who had been traveling for twentyhoursstraight. the vibe that night was good, a very convincing argument for why denton needs a queer music space -- I don't think even Dallas has anything like it.

what was odd was that everyone (okay, three of the bandpeople) kept thanking me, like somehow because I'm sit next to the soundman and hold his hand throughout the sets and help him coil up his cables somehow means I'm responsible for something?

One: [patting me on the back after her set] Hey, thanks for everything.
Me: What, me? Oh, I don't do anything around here.
One: You stuck around and listened.
Me: [too dumbfounded to realize that I should be saying thank you to her.]

Two: Thanks for setting up this show.
Me: [coiling up cables] Hunh? Oh, it's not me. [trying to talk over the background music] It's Heather. She's in back and she has short black hair. [trying to motion towards the back, except I can't see her]

Three: [in passing] Thank you so much.
Me: [too befuddled to do anything but smile, realizing too late once again that I ought to be the one doing the thanking]

um, so thank you pearlfish. thank you robino and drummer. thank you tami hart and drummer. gracias misterlady.


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