Not Clever, But Lewd 1 November 1999

2:18 AM: LONG weekend, yes indeed. Let's see if I can semicoherently recap.

Friday, Ben Lee and Luscious Jackson at Maritime Hall. Ben Lee's set was great. He's a very engaging, gangly, nerdly sort of fellow - the kind who can describe some obscure neurotic song as "one of our sexier numbers" and get away with it. His reaction to the huge video projection screens that did this Don Kirshener's Rock Concert, pre-MTV video number on all the bands was perfect: "Sorry, I'm a little distracted by this. You know, you practice these guitar moves since you're 8 years old, and all of a sudden you're a 30-foot rock god." Plus his keyboard player was this totally cute, perfectly flat-chested girl with a superhero lightning-bolt shirt and long brown hair that she swung back and forth when she wasn't jumping up and down. Sigh.

And then after his show, he was hanging out at the T-shirt booth, and at the very wise suggestion of Penny, my young but not-at-all-in-a-Giles-like-way friend who came to the show with me, I got him to autograph his CD! Gosh.

Luscious Jackson were pretty good. They've changed a lot, even in the few years since I saw them at the Fillmore, but still put on a good set. It was kind of dampened for us, though, because we got stuck behind these completely gross people - some kind of gigolo setup, I swear. Terribly screaming yelling swearing drunkass ugly women with these guys who looked like they were far more interested in each other than in the women. It got kind of ugly by the end of the show, because on one of their many dispiriting returns from the bar (we foolishly hoping each time that they would get lost and never return), the most especially creepy woman emitted this horrible cackle as she passed me. And I, well, I did that dangerous thing I do sometimes where I let my mouth run away without paying attention to who can hear - I did an imitation of the cackle and muttered something like "Sheesh, Halloween."

She heard me, of course, and turned around and glared at me for a long time. Like I'm going to look at her when there was anything else to see. I guess they gave up on it eventually, but for a bit there I thought for sure she was going to come over and throw her drink on me, or even worse, start trying to talk to me. Shudder.

Then, Saturday was Magic Barfly Hour! Where we get an extra hour at Daylight Savings Time. That ended up not being anything particularly memorable, as many people were out at private can't-stay-up-on-Sunday Halloween parties. But it added to the process of total physical collapse on my part. I think I slept until midnight that day.

Sunday, we went to see Days of Heaven, which was not only beautiful as advertised, but a lot funnier than I would have thought. The young girl who narrated it had some wonderful lines. "Maybe I could be a mud doctor, listening to the earth."

It was playing at the Castro Theater, so we left there around 9 PM or so, right in the heart of San Francisco Halloween just as it was picking up speed. That was fun. I especially liked the young girl with no clothes on and "FUCK ME" written in lipstick on her chest. They're never sincere about that sort of thing, though. Dang it.

We walked through the crowd for a while, losing one of our party who was just coming on to mushrooms and saw something shiny. Ended up back at the bar, where a parade of some of our more extremely male and drug-stupefied accquaintences showed up and pounded on the bar while talking fast and being belligerent. That was tiresome. Particularly since it seemed to prove attractive to women who really should know better. But then, I guess I'm just a beta male with a bad attitude.

That was from 10 PM until 2 AM, and seemed like, oh, a year or so. When the bar finally closed, I foolishly went with the stragglers who were left to a party up the street. I knew nobody there, and they had no drinks left of any kind, not even water. Naturally, it seemed like a really good time to take my one hit of pot for the year. By the time I got home I had no idea about... anything at all, really. I'm just glad I remembered where my apartment was.

So I decided that trying to make a 10 AM meeting today was just not going to happen. Slept until 1 PM or so, went in to work, did some things, didn't eat because I forgot, and because we had big huge cookies and Cheetos for snack. On the plus side, none of the perhaps less-than-well-thought-out emails that I had sent in the wee hours this weekend had any terrible consequences. They're so kind to me. Well, this time.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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