'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

and i ask you

How much is too much?

It's a trick question. I think.

- + - + -

Back from Willie Nelson. Been back a while, actually. McG and I sat at the dining room table yakking away. Also read aloud Tommy's latest letter, alternating by page. 25 pages, specifically, not counting the P.S.  Lots of adventures.

After the warm-up act tonight, who should we see in the nosebleeds but S and one of her kids, then the other, coming over to say hi. They were there with her mother and her brother and his woman. We went & sat behind them for the show. Thus McG finally got to meet the family I had been dating, on and off and on and off.

Whoever was running the spotlights, I had suggested earlier, must have been stoned too. Weirdly negligent lighting---getting around to hitting a soloist with a spot for about the last 3 notes, fer instance. Like, why bother then? But at one point---remember, we're in the second balcony of the very tasteful hall, which is not the Farm Aid kind of atmosphere I always imagined seeing Willie in someday, though the audience contained more than one guy in a ribbed white cotton tank top undershirt (this is me not using the nickname for it)---at one point, up in the high balcony, S's older girl reached up to try to put her hand into the spotlight, and we all noticed the glistening, swirling particles in the beam of brightness just over our heads---the particles that are in the air all the time, and that were in the rest of the air around there, too, but we could see them only in the spotlight stream. They moved like plasma, in waves. Particles in waves. Various rates. I tried blowing into one.

It was a little like that up in the balcony.

Meanwhile Willie's singing his fifteenth song about cowboys and their long-suffering women, and I'm thinking about men and women, and there's that reminder, right there, with her adorable little kid asleep on her, of what a lesbian I am. Which I have found it hard to remember sometimes lately. Doesn't make any sense, but there it is. Okay well it's not as if I ever forget, exactly.

(Recent word on the street internet is that one of my birthday twins, as some people call them, is "a lesbian who says that men can be fun sex toys ... but that she never feels any romantic feelings toward them.")

Willie's son did a sweet ballad in the before-Willie part. What the hell was that song. "I ain't desperate...." Oh, yeah--- "I want you to want me around. I want you to want me around. I ain't desperate [pause for a little riff], but I know what I've found." He has a bluesy way. Some assholes were yelling "Bring on Willie!" It's true we'd had a lot of pre-Willie by then, but c'mon. Willie wouldn't like that.

There's a new chocolate place on Liberty St. I remember thinking, seeing the signs go up, "This town is thought to be able to support another chocolate place?" There are at least 2 other ones downtown. And that's if you don't count that one ice cream place. McG spotted these caramel apples in there as we went by---something like 20 varieties. "You can have us slice them," the sign said. "You can share them." On the door was a flyer for chocolate dipped frozen bananas (mmmmm) and (get this) chocolate dipped frozen cheesecake (on a stick). They also mention that they sell Washtenaw Dairy ice cream.

Alas, they close at 11 on weeknights, and Willie had us going longer than that.

On the way, though, McG said it was probably the most Willy Wonka moment she'd ever had, looking through the glass at those apples in that shop. So I sang the Oompa Loompa song, but with lyrics like, "What do you get when you do something we don't approve of?"

Those Oompa Loompas are so judgmental.

- = 0 = -

Lisa needs a new default icon. Any ideas?

o - o - o

Time to say goodnight, I guess. I arranged to come in late tomorrow because I was going to run my car by the shop, but I'm starting to think I'll come in late and not have done that.

For the rowers keep on rowing
And they're certainly not showing
Any signs that they are slowing...


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