Sunny With a Chance of Ditty Bops

This is late.
The past few days have been full and overwhelming. An emotional ride to say the least. My friends and I drove up I-84 through the Gorge - stunning - up into the Husum highlands for a wedding, camping out in the shadow of vineyards and mountains. Sleep was drunken and uncomfortable, but the ceremony was perfect. Beautiful. My need for ritual was satisfied.
The winds of change sweep in, shaking the trees. The birds all fly away. A new job, and everything has a sort of bittersweet air these days. Tainted. The last gasp of summer.
I was delighted to witness the charming stage show of the Ditty Bops last night at the Aladdin Theater. This morning, as I rode out towards Hawthorne to meet a friend for coffee and writing, I looked across and saw two very tired and disheveled looking women walking towards me. It was none other than Amanda and Abby themselves. I rode up to them and shook their hands, giddy; I thanked them for playing and made small talk, trying not to gush. They looked exhausted, so I let them be on their way... yet they were completely gracious. I'm always wary to stop a musician on the street, afraid to come off like some creepy fanboy. But they seemed pleased.
I rode on with a big grin on my face.
Our writing session was really more of a peoplewatching affair, as inevitably happens. I get out of the house to focus on my work; I go back home because I can't focus when there's so much to look at. One panini, iced coffee, and severe case of the jitters later, I was back at my desk. I wonder how I could have expected to get anything done out there.
Once home, I set about taking my procrastination to appropriately extreme levels; it's my prerogative as a writer to put off doing work for as long as possible, naturally. I alternate between episodes of The Mighty Boosh and glasses of Papio, and scurrying around my room listening to the beats of Simon Posford and tidying up obsessively. Anything to keep me from facing the blank word document. Let me check Neil's blog again. Let me inspect my new Moleskine cahiers. Again. More wine? Yes please. Nothing like drinking and electronica to fuel a cleaning session. Mood lighting and incense. I am on fire.
Cleaning becomes more frantic as it wears on. Less to do. I fancy my new calendar and listen to songs about the sea. I lay on my floor and drift away. Endless checkings of Adium and Ye Olde Gmail account.
The entire day has been mine. No work, no evening obligations. These are the days I dream about, not a care in the world, every moment offering itself to me like a sacrifice, begging. Live. Live.
I do love those Ditty Bops.



Here's some mood music:

The Essex Green - (Don't Know Why) You Stay
Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds - Nobody's Baby Now
Summer at Shatter Creek - Something to Calm Me
A Silver Mt. Zion - Horses in the Sky
Christian Kiefer - Original

and lastly,

The Ditty Bops - Short Stacks