We're coming to your town
We'll help you party down
You know it? You old? Or is that one they've recycled in pop culture? Seems likely it would be.
Gee I used a lotta scare quotes in that first paragraph above.
"Grand Funk Railroad," I submit, is right up there in the most dated-sounding of band names.
So yeah, they were coming to my town, the revival of Sister Spit. Felt very much like that, with the van of gender-queer-core-y yet retro-lesbo-feminist and even queer-cine-celeb coastal spoken word stalwarts driving into Ann Arbor to do some of their thing for us. And after much waffling right up to deadline, I skipped it. Pulled some garlic mustard, wrote some email and a letter, took it easy. And no regrets. I knew that the second I finally took the decision.
Guess it'll be sometime later on that I make my first visit to the town gay bar under the smoke-free dictate.
It's pouring rain today, which is Friday. Steady all-day rain. The practice part of softball practice-and-potluck tonight will almost surely be washed out.
Enough. Back to work. Trot to the finish.
