June 5, 2008

Every morning I walk up the steps from the subway at the base of the Flatiron Building, and it smells like piss, and I think, Someone peed down these steps last night. It's as routine as my cup of tea.

One of my dad's favorite sayings is, If you want to dance, you have to pay the fiddler. He usually recites this with a note of triumph in his voice when I complain of being tired the morning after "kicking the gong around" (another of my dad's faves). Tuesday night I saw Rilo Kiley, and I've been paying that Sheriff of Nottingham of a fiddler ever since.

I think this was the first concert that I felt like an Adult, with a capital A. Alyssa and I found a spot in the balcony quite close to the stage where shrimpy me could see. It was full of 21-and-overs, and much less dancier than down on the floor. Gold star nonetheless: pretty sure Blake was drunk, Pierre's daughter (who looked to be about 8 and was sitting directly opposite me in the other balcony) sang the "ow, ow, ow" part in "Moneymaker" with great gusto, and Jenny wore a calico onesy with cowboy boots. (As Alyssa pointed out, her outfit probably had snaps in the crotch so she could pee without completely undressing. Easy access.) I will never get tired of RK.

Last night I was supposed to see David Sedaris read, but when I got there, 75 minutes early, I had to stand at the back of a long, long line for standing room. I was standing on line to stand. So I said, F this! and I went home and made a cozy dinner of eggs and toast and flicked on The Daily Show rerun, and who was on, but David Sedaris! I felt vindicated.

Tonight: I will attempt to get an elliptical at the gym.

Tomorrow: Visitors for viztin'!

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