Yesterday was a rockstar extravaganza with 7 or 8 hours of walking from stage to stage and talking with some of my favored Middling City residents, those who populate bands.
In a nutshell: Tony Christiano couldn't play as he had a dislocated shoulder from softball, Steve Ryder can play now after recuperating from punching a window - when his hand "went through something glass," The Sheila Divine is fairly done, members of Cracker complained about border crossing and their drummer asked me when I was standing onstage near him what the non-alcoholic version of Labatt Beer is (?), Alison Pipitone had a blemish on one side of her face and asked me to shoot her from her right side so I began to call her Liza (as in Minelli, who had me shoot her from her left side ONLY), Mockba performed in matchy-snatchy b-ball unis, Freeland played in his uniform FUCK tights which shocked my 6-year old niece for some reason, Val Townsend from The Edge showed me the exciting things she was crafting up with the wack of Mardi Gras beads hanging about the radio station's remote van, missed Baby Rock Star but not his one remaining bandmate who was covered in sweat, got hugs from numerous sweaty individuals, tried to get a shot of Eddie The Cop Cotter emptying some unfortunate punk rockers' 40s onto the ground so as to make it look like he was drinking it himself, etc.
Imagistic and Meandering Love.