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ffloThe "poetry" that kept occurring to me as I thought about attending a special event last night was a lyric from the record I traded to my brother (for a Sonny & Cher l.p., I believe) when he was unloading his "uncool" records. (I picked up all his Barry Manilow then, too. Cheap.) I'd liked the band's cover of "Locomotion," but he was a better fit for the "harder" stuff, like the hit with the lines I'm thinking of:
We're coming to your town
We'll help you party down
You know it? You old? Or is that one they've recycled in pop culture? Seems likely it would be.
Gee I used a lotta scare quotes in that first paragraph above.
"Grand Funk Railroad," I submit, is right up there in the most dated-sounding of band names.
So yeah, they were coming to my town, the revival of Sister Spit. Felt very much like that, with the van of gender-queer-core-y yet retro-lesbo-feminist and even queer-cine-celeb coastal spoken word stalwarts driving into Ann Arbor to do some of their thing for us. And after much waffling right up to deadline, I skipped it. Pulled some garlic mustard, wrote some email and a letter, took it easy. And no regrets. I knew that the second I finally took the decision.
Guess it'll be sometime later on that I make my first visit to the town gay bar under the smoke-free dictate.
It's pouring rain today, which is Friday. Steady all-day rain. The practice part of softball practice-and-potluck tonight will almost surely be washed out.
Enough. Back to work. Trot to the finish.
We're coming to your town
We'll help you party down
You know it? You old? Or is that one they've recycled in pop culture? Seems likely it would be.
Gee I used a lotta scare quotes in that first paragraph above.
"Grand Funk Railroad," I submit, is right up there in the most dated-sounding of band names.
So yeah, they were coming to my town, the revival of Sister Spit. Felt very much like that, with the van of gender-queer-core-y yet retro-lesbo-feminist and even queer-cine-celeb coastal spoken word stalwarts driving into Ann Arbor to do some of their thing for us. And after much waffling right up to deadline, I skipped it. Pulled some garlic mustard, wrote some email and a letter, took it easy. And no regrets. I knew that the second I finally took the decision.
Guess it'll be sometime later on that I make my first visit to the town gay bar under the smoke-free dictate.
It's pouring rain today, which is Friday. Steady all-day rain. The practice part of softball practice-and-potluck tonight will almost surely be washed out.
Enough. Back to work. Trot to the finish.
