on sunday
walking through central park
after rowing around in the boat
we saw a few men with snakes
three, i think:
a little one, and two large ones
the yellow and white (6 feet?)
and a “king boa” (danny called him, about 7 feet, so thick…)
the brown one was on the ground
docile
until i searched out its head with my eyes
and it lifted up off the grass
moving towards me
tongue flicking
the men moved to ready
i got on my knees
and pet under neath its chin
down. . .
in my dreams last night
snakes
somewhere i was
small black snakes everywhere…
wasn’t worried, of course
but
upon trying to leave a certain area
huge ones came up
lifting off the ground
rearing their heads back
and bright read organelles came out of their “ears”, feathered
what?
later(another dream)
we were checking into the hotel
and were on the guest list there, given wrist bands to the festival
what time was it already? had i already missed the show?
too late.
in my waning manic/depressive ways
i have to say that
getting enough sleep, though keeping me balanced, certainly doesn’t bring me much joy.
last night i found out that Apostle of Hustle were playing at a book release party for the Broken Social Scene
some other A&C bands as well, and surprise special guests
i went to the venue after a client (odd client, but then. . . )
raining
nice walk
but when i got there
man at the door said ” no tickets for sale, only on the list or with special wrist bands ”
i searched on line
and asked people IN the line
no avail
but i told them all (even as many of them were turned away)
that i wasn’t going to give up that easily
see some of the broken social scene on their turf! what luck!
i stood on the other side of the door from the line
there was the bassist for the apostle of hustle
cute little chubby guy with long hair
smoking
we made eye contact
— we’d talked once outside of the Mercury Lounge
— i’d hugged him (thinking that was the wrong thing to do as i did it, but it’s how i am)
there he was, standing next to a blond chick with bright pink toenails
oh, if only i had bright pink toe nails, a jean mini skirt and long straight blonde hair…
if Kevin Drew were here i could…
and out walks Kevin Drew
not “on stage” presence
he looked like he was just quietly playing it down
and i just stood there staring at him
brief glance (of course i stand out anywhere)
not exactly on the same wave as these hipster kids
but there i was
and i didn’t want to be a pushy american
too late
too late
they all went back inside
and i turned to go down the street
up Yonge again
and saw a storefront for a radio station advertising that music festival
so i went in an asked them if they knew anything about the show
a girl said “oh, i’m sure someone from the broken social scene is riding around town on a bike right now, there’s like 20 kids in that band”
i told her i saw kevin drew
she said “you should have just asked him”
i told her i didn’t want to be an annoying fan
she said “you should have, he wouldn’t have minded”
i should have
but
opportunity missed
i went back to the hotel
and Steve is not a party animal
living up the arctic as he does
he was in with fish and chips
i read him yesterdays journal entry
and he was asleep by the end
so instead of going out to the bars
i decided: 11pm already
i should just sleep on this cool rainy night
Steve can’t sleep with out noise
so i put on Music for Airports on the bed-side iPod docked radio
then put on ocean wave sounds from the White Noise program on my iPhone
slept
slept
with many dreams
woke at 7:30 am
airports… waves…
strange feeling like i was missing something. . .
i wish i were home so i could go through my books
be there to receive my packages
i wish something. . .