agent of entropy

I wasn't really expecting to have the day off tomorrow, but it worked out in the end. So very excited about sleeping in past 6:30 am! So, if I've got the day off tomorrow, that means tonight was my evening to go out and do a thing; it was a ~13 hour workday and exhausting, but Sarah texted asking if I wanted to go out to a show. (With homemade dinner first! Perfect. Otherwise I may well have eaten leftovers and passed out at home at 8pm.) It's Nola Fringe Festival this week, and sadly I missed one of the shows I'd wanted to see, but this one turned out to be fantastic: Fringe, Fishnets, Feathers, and Felt: The Hurricane Party. You know it's a good show when you come home with your cheeks sore from grinning and laughing. As advertised, there were indeed Puppets! Dancing Girls! Live Jazz! Comedy! and Meschiya Lake! Also, it had probably the most charming palmetto bugs (i.e. giant cockroaches) I've seen -- I much prefer palmetto bugs when they are actually dancing girls in iridescent brown-gold lamé costumes, and then when they're not only dancing girls but also the stagehands. Take note, New Orleans: please have all the insects that invade my rooms turn out to be mischievous dancing girls in shiny costumes.
There were also charming swing-dancing Jailbirds in stripy crow costumes, Caroline Fourmy (being much more vaudeville-hilarious than in the bits behind that link, which are her + her jazz band) and the Camel Toe Lady Steppers. I do love this town.

Two nights ago, at the food-truck shindig atop the deserted strip mall, there was another 80s-vintage wood-paneled station wagon in the parking lot, and I was all excited because I've seen all of maybe 1 or 2 others in all of New Orleans. Today, there was another (different, and maybe even 70s-era given the profile and color scheme) wagon parked up on Carrollton, near where I live.

Also, while driving home, a song / spoken-word piece came on the radio (on WWOZ, of course) that I have only heard in two places: played live by a band called Stark Raving Chandler in a tiny bar in Charleston on a poetry slam night, once; and on the CD that I bought from them that evening...oh, what, 15 years ago? Something like that. A strange experience, to be driving (in a slightly-older version of the wagon I was driving back then, also coincidentally) and have Chris Chandler suddenly come on the radio with a meandering piece about history and truth and time, following someone doing a cover of Leonard Cohen's "Everybody Knows".

Tomorrow's the po'boy festival (there is always some kind of festival here; often several at once), and it's conveniently just down the street from my house. If I'm up early enough to dodge the crowds, I'll wander down there. I heard rumor of a shrimp remoulade po'boy, and various other rare po'boy sandwich creations. (Also, daylight! I could be outdoors in it! Amazing.)

So, first, sleep. Lots to get done tomorrow (sadly, much more than "eating po'boys in the sun").

a pair of links, from the Haus list & tamnonlinear, respectively:

geeky music visual fun
and
ridiculous equine cuteness (aka OMG PONIES!!)

and lyrics to the song i was just listening to.
"Galuppi Baldasare" (Kris Delmhorst)

..."And the minor third so bitter, the six chord like a sigh,
suspension, solution, asking must we die, must we die must we die?
And the seventh says Well fellas, life might not last, but we can try...

So were you happy? I was happy. You still happy? Yes, and you?
Then more kisses! Why’d we stop them, when a million seemed so few?
There’s something in that music, lord it must be answered to."...

it's been a weird week. some good things (of the absurd, nostalgic, scientific, textile, and straightforwardly lovely varieties), some confusing, and some not so good. i might be healthier, though i don't know why and i'm not sure if it'll stay. my brain and i are not getting along so well at the moment, but hopefully at least some aspects of that will improve with sleep, some wandering and farmer's market and blackberry-picking, and perhaps also some dancing.

and, to that end:

i'm going to see Jason Webley & Andru Bemis play at 21 Grand in Oakland, tomorrow (Saturday 8/19) night at 8:30pm.

y'all should come, because while i'll go if it's just me and there will be music (that tears itself apart and that puts everything together)...it would be more fun if i had other people to laugh and dance and shake fists at the night with.

clare called and dug me out of my cave, finally. it'd been a slow and chilly day, but at least a little productive -- lots of sleep, some housecleaning, some unloading/unpacking, a little grocery-shopping. i skipped out on several evening events and had mostly decided to continue on with the puttering and make another early night of it, but clare called in from the city with the promise of a good party and a marching band, if i'd just come pick her up from the BART.

i've been wanting to see the Extra Action Marching Band play for a long while now; i've run into them at Burning Man and seen parts of the band around Oakland, but never gotten to see them play. the next show of theirs i know of isn't til next month, so i figured i'd get off my ass and go. we made our way to a place that as best i could gather is named the TransOrbital Somethingorother Warehouse, out in west Oakland...a huge space that seemed to be mostly decorated with discarded theater sets, stolen bits of other buildings, and the usual haphazard assemblage of walls marking off rooms along the edges.

the first band was (as far as i could tell) called Knees & Elbows, fronted by a girl with red braids, pinstripes, and a clear, powerful, haunting voice. she played some instrument that looked like the runt offspring of a flute and a keyboard, and there was also a tuba. very tasty. we skipped the next band or two, one of which (Tiger Honeypot, i think) was apparently good...but we'd found our way outside to the big iron chimenea and the tiny secret garden, and there we stayed for the next hour or two. we came back in for the last half of a band called Fantasy, who were...impressive. very, very...80's. (i think. i missed that decade, and am ok with that.) shiny white jumpsuits covered in huge slick polka-dots, with each bandmember's polka-dots a different color. ("You can play Twister on us after the show," they said.) bad haircuts and high wailing falsettos. reminded me of the movie that i watched 20 minutes of at signifier's in Portland, The Apple.

and then finally finally finally, the Extra Action Marching Band. it was 3am, but they got me out and dancing...the show just turned into one big dance-mob, with the band wandering around, jumping up and down, scattered all through the crowd and only occasionally mostly making it back to the stage. drums and cowbells, trumpets and trombones and a tuba, one fierce fellow with a fireman's coat and a cigar smashing away on the cymbals, and more drums, huge thundery ones and bashing and thumping ones and bright loud snares. wheee! i'd love to come along with them on a real parade, everyone dancing in the streets or coming out to their windows and doorsteps to watch.

and now it's time for sleeping again.