snakes in my house
"This next song is about a dream I had in which I was pursued by the Living Bride of Death. It's called 'The Living Bride.'"
The Friendly Rich show was last night. As always, edge-of-your-seat excitement, culminating in my adoption of a prize zucchini (it didn't win a prize; I won it as a prize).
Actually, I didn't win it in the strictest sense. The person who truly won the trivia contest wouldn't come forward, and after Rich complained that the last prize winner didn't take home the goldfish in the blender (Tony Fernandez) which meant that he (Tony) had to be killed, and thus the prize needed to go to a home that wanted it…in short, the victory fell on me. I think this makes up for the pizza I didn't get in May, especially since it was presented by an extremely surly Soot (who was wearing a nurse headdress).
It was a good time, bolstered by the attendance of Exodus & his girl Levitica and necessitating the consumption of much beer. (By the Boy, of course. I'm being Good From Now On, remember?) The opening acts were superb for a happy change: Mr. Marbles was a gloriously cool jazz band, Mississippi Grover was a one-man travelling-medicine show and his tonic was sonic, and The Scramblies scrambled up some down home washtub bass roots music about simple delights. I'm still singing "Sandwich" and "Snakes in my House" to myself. (The latter of which you can hear if you follow the link to the myspace page.) Oh, and Laura Barrett was there to add her kalimba to the understudy-sung "Sure that I'm Sure," which was a beautiful surprise. I miss going to her live shows and I've only seen her the once.
I was genuinely sorry that Lisa the Needle Addict and Stacy the…uh…frill addict couldn't make it – this clearly made up for Sir Smarmy and the Smirkalots from the May gig.
Some bonus pictures:
sometimes it's hard to be a spaceman...giving all your love to just one ship...
saying cheese
Labels: blake, friends, music, outings, triumph
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*