Wednesday, March 06, 2002

On most current ride back to the orifice I had a karaoke moment in the car. On the classic rock station was Eddie Money's Baby Hold On (to Me... the future is ours to see, etc.) and I simultaneously pictured this past summer when I photographed him at a free downtown concert and he sweated through his shirt... and then his tie. So I'm thinking of the song on the radio and realized it's a perfect karoke song = not too long, no overdone guitar parts, no spoken word moments, not built for sopranos. And it's made for some choice hand gesturing which would go nicely with its drum beat.
If I'm ever allowed to sing karaoke in the Middling City again this might be my choice.

And following is why Dorota is my favored person today and forever.
So I'm minding my own business checking the mail and I see an ominous package standing on end underneath the mailbox, the snow from the roof soaking it nicely.
Of course I didn't think of anthrax, that is so over.
Waiting package is from Dorota, priority mailed over from Broome Street to my street. And she wrote fragile on the wrapping.
And guess what the hell it is?
One of those precious bottle cap people I collect from the 50's. And she must have ordered it from eBay via Canada as the package was covered with clues in the form of Canadian stamps from when this person sent it to her in NYC.
This bottlecap man has maniacal painted blue eyes, a swooping painted smile and he's wearing a floral bow tie over tiny painted buttons.
Oh, and his maker painted I heart N Y on the base.
You know you have a supersonic pal when they send you an ominous package and upon opening it all you can say is Oh My God, Oh My God.
And then your second thought is I must blog this.

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