Today was my nephews' birthday party (no they're not twins, they were sharing), so there was swimming and we timed it just right so we were only there for the very end. Most of the other kids were gone, the pool was empty except for us and them and shark toys and the Batman and Robin toys we'd brought them. (Figuring that everyone else would go Marvel, we went DC, and of course were right.) Very fun.
Then home and a nap to wash away the tired this week brought on. Watched Election because Christopher'd never seen it (and if you haven't, you should). Now I'm getting ready to do my YA pages for today, as I've gotten into the odd habit of writing later in the day, before bedtime. It's strange but it's working, so I'm not going to mess with it until it stops.
Caitlin Cary was great fun; lots of air fiddle and the band seemed to genuinely enjoy playing. Kathleen Edwards was good too, though her band seemed kind of packaged and she was very "bad girl," dissing the folk show that tapes up the street (and which she has been on twice) as she came out with a great oneliner. "Some of you may have seen me at the Fucking Folk Hour at the theater up the street--well, this isn't the Fucking Folk Hour." She then went on to recognize the irony of A Mighty Wind currently screening in the same theater where they tape Woodsongs. Teehee.
(Yes, we go sometimes, but the guy that runs it is so annoyingly "folksy.")
Good show, good venue. Hilarity provided by the antics of some drunken redneck boy at the table next to us who inappropriate raised his fist for White Trash Power during slow songs and screamed repeatedly things like, "You're the best!", "Wild Child!", "I love youuuuuu!" or just good ole "Whooooo!" He was animated by a spirit of inappropriateness almost indescrible. This is the guy you want at the table next to you for added entertainment value. And I came home at 1 a.m. and did my words like a good little girl. I broke 100 pages--something I have only done on screenplays, which have far less words to a page. It felt weird. I'm about half-way done. That feels weird too.
Then home and a nap to wash away the tired this week brought on. Watched Election because Christopher'd never seen it (and if you haven't, you should). Now I'm getting ready to do my YA pages for today, as I've gotten into the odd habit of writing later in the day, before bedtime. It's strange but it's working, so I'm not going to mess with it until it stops.
Caitlin Cary was great fun; lots of air fiddle and the band seemed to genuinely enjoy playing. Kathleen Edwards was good too, though her band seemed kind of packaged and she was very "bad girl," dissing the folk show that tapes up the street (and which she has been on twice) as she came out with a great oneliner. "Some of you may have seen me at the Fucking Folk Hour at the theater up the street--well, this isn't the Fucking Folk Hour." She then went on to recognize the irony of A Mighty Wind currently screening in the same theater where they tape Woodsongs. Teehee.
(Yes, we go sometimes, but the guy that runs it is so annoyingly "folksy.")
Good show, good venue. Hilarity provided by the antics of some drunken redneck boy at the table next to us who inappropriate raised his fist for White Trash Power during slow songs and screamed repeatedly things like, "You're the best!", "Wild Child!", "I love youuuuuu!" or just good ole "Whooooo!" He was animated by a spirit of inappropriateness almost indescrible. This is the guy you want at the table next to you for added entertainment value. And I came home at 1 a.m. and did my words like a good little girl. I broke 100 pages--something I have only done on screenplays, which have far less words to a page. It felt weird. I'm about half-way done. That feels weird too.
posted by Gwenda @ 5/17/2003 09:02:00 PM
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