I can’t blog to friggin’ Bob Marley. I have no idea why, but I can’t seem to keep to a line of thought when I’m listening to the guy. I’ve got nothing against Bob – hell, like three or four of his discs in a row are in my regular cd queue (which is my endless soundtrack at home – thank goodness for a 60 – or something – disc stereo). Or rather, thank Jim Fordham, one of my buddies from DC who gave me the stereo when he moved to CA like five years ago.
I *really* need to clean out the cat’s litter box. Not a task I’m a big fan of, but I’m not a very good human if I don’t do it. Speaking of cats being people too, Laila Jo may not be my cat for very much longer. Christine left me a voicemail last night saying that she “may have found a home” for Laila Jo. I’m skeptical and pessimistic.
She also said that she’d probably be picking up Laila Jo today, but the dear sweet kitty was stretching on the carpet and yowling at me to rub her belly and head (at the same time, dammit!), as per our usual *sigh* routine. Christine’s voicemail said that she hopes this news makes me feel relieved – that I haven’t grown too attached to Laila Jo. Sheesh. When the chicks on my (now cancelled) eHarmony account ask if I prefer cats or dogs (or neither) in one of those stupid multiple choice questions, I always pick the open-ended answer, which is “I’m ‘all things warm and fuzzy’ kind of guy”. Of course I’m attached to her.
I tried not to be at first, but quickly realized that I wouldn’t be a very good human if I wasn’t actually giving her *love* while she’s sitting in my lap. There’s a big difference between petting a cat (or dog or whatever) and actually transmitting a loving vibe when doing so. They can tell. So can I – whether I’m the giver or the receiver.
So I made a conscious decision to dissolve that little barrier around my heart that would keep me from feeling sad when she (eventually and inevitably) left, in order to be the best human for her while I was her human.
At the end of the day, I think it probably would have been easier on me if Christine had just picked Laila Jo up today before I got home. Like the correct way to take off a band-aid.
Instead, I find myself enjoying the sweet part of the bittersweet knowledge that the day is soon when she won’t be yowling at me when I return home or sitting in my lap, complaining that I’m blogging and not giving her my full attention.
Ah, well.
It’s about midnight here in the QJ portion of NNJ, and I’m exhausted. I got home at about 2AM last night and went straight off to bed, in a (unfortunately futile) attempt to make it to work at 8:30. Katie and I had a pretty awesome time at the Stratovarius show last night, though I will say that we definitely brought most of the awesomeness with us. Instead of being heavy metal with violins (as we thought it would be), the show was more of an 80s hair metal show. High voices singing about stuff that wasn’t really all that depressing or scary. Blech. At this point, I think every dude from a Scandanavian country has a lisp – or at least the ones who play music.
The first opening band was probably local guys, and I won’t waste the pixels, neurons, or keystrokes telling you how cheesy/crappy they were.
The second opening band was Pagan’s Mind, and despite the high voice and homo-erotic microphone gestures of the lead singer (seriously, dude, this isn’t a gay porn tryout session), they pretty much rocked our evening. But W. T. F. : what is the world coming to when a band can have the word “Pagan” in its name and not one single song mentioned the dark lord?? Demons? No. Horrible, unwinnable battles against unseeable evil enemies? Nope. Magic? Not even that. Nothing even remotely fantasy novel, legend, or myth related.
I say again:
W.
T.
F.
You fuckers really should be singing dark versions of your homeland’s fairy tales. Stuff about vikings and sea monsters and Thor and thunder and lightning. And for goodness’ sake, find a guy with a deeper voice! I miss Pantera.
On a positive note, the bass player from Pagan’s Mind was pretty awesome. He was this semi-chubby, dude with a blonde goatee, short but thinning on top blonde hair and a big smile. He was really digging being on stage – and this is a dude who plays music for a living. After Pagan’s Mind was done and Stratovarius was playing, the dudes from Pagan’s Mind ended up standing right behind Katie and me. I think she recognized them first. Though it was my idea to get their autographs, it was Katie’s to get them to sign our tickets. But the bass player wasn’t there. Katie and I came to the conclusion that he was definitely getting laid. After a while, we figured he was probably doing a Viagra commercial as well. Both of us told the dudes from Pagan’s Mind that we did meet that we liked them better than Stratovarius. Their discs were sold out – I suppose we’ll have to hit up Amazon to get them now.
And one last thing – I know this is getting long (which was totally not my intention) – there was this big soft black dude standing behind and to the side of Katie and me for the whole show. Yes, a black dude at a metal show. Put your prejudices aside, dear reader, it happens.
Anyway, during the Pagan’s Mind show, he just kind of stood there with an expressionless face and thousand-yard stare. I was absolutely convinced that he was either a real-life zombie or on of the extras from Shaun of the Dead. But when Stratovarius started playing, this guy totally leapt to life! He knew all the words and was singing and gesticulating like he was center stage of the opera. It was awesome. And weird. One of the ‘hands came around and gave him a backstage pass. That was some of the sweetest karma I’ve seen in a long time.
I won’t get into the emo haircut on the guitar player for Pagan’s Mind, the fact that *none* of the bands had an effin rhythm guitarist, or the dude from Bayshore who kept trying to hit on my sister. And I definitely won’t get into my cold, clear homicidal thoughts about the dude. I really should have been a serial killer.
A positive note: read Lauren Flax’s blog, especially her WWA submissions. She has a wonderfully positive outlook on pretty much everything.
The end.
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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Keep the cat if she fits into your life. If it’s not an inconveince(sp) to have her, keep her. She already likes you, is use to you, you have a routine.
I hope you keep the cat too. I mean, once they get under your skin, you’re pretty much a goner. I’ve had mine for 6 years. I was working on a farm, and someone dropped her off. You’d be surprised by the amount of people that actually do that. They think it’s all fun to have a cat, but then figure out it doesn’t fit their lifestyle, so they drop it off at the nearest farm thinking it’s being left at the doorstep of mousey heaven. Anyways, “Ruby” pretty much won the lottery, cause she’s lived much longer than your average barn cat, living in my comfy city apartment!