Spandex, spandex, spandex as far as the eye can see - that's what I expect at tomorrow's Kim Mitchell concert at Thursday at the Square. Lots of that miracle fibre as well as motorcycles... and mullets.
Got the final big okay to shoot Dixie Chicks from Lanie, their p.r. person - one song, song #3 only, from the soundboard as rumor had it. The opener is Joan Osborne, the woman who big fame has eluded.
Ron emailed me this morning to comment upon my Metallica purchase yesterday, he was incredulous that my metallic side wanted THAT and not Bucket Head. Perhaps I shouldn't mention right here that I'm right now listening to White Zombie, to avoid another torrent of musical opining from down south, where Ron lives.
Ron, btw, wrote to me recently that he may have an op to run a grappa farm. To my thinking that'd be like someone coming up to me and stating Nance, we'd like you to run the Oban plant.
At that time I wrote to Ron and shared one of my fav grappa tales, about having some of that and much later in the evening being awakened by a security man whilst I snoozed, all dressed up in finery, on a bench in Toronto, unable to awaken my pal/grappa sharer.
The end.
For now.