Note to self: if every bride were as psycho-bitchy as yesterday's, dear Nancy, you are not only skipping shooting any future weddings, but will lobby hard in our nation's capital for legislation to pass a law banning marriage.

Found myself in a far-flung vortex of local rock gossip this weekend. Firstly, late Friday night (thankfully after escaping a concentrated dose of show tune-toting theatre people) spoke with a departed drummer of the band he and I were watching. He, his tall, & tipsy self, kept uttering things into my ear. For all I know he was speaking Old High Inuit. Loud outdoor rock & roll under a tent + waning hearing in both ears due to a few decades of rock watching and shooting + drunk departed drummer = WHO THE FUCK KNOWS!. What I did catch was this: as one song was about to begin he said, hearing the first note, If I ever played THIS song again I was going to explode. His hands were drumming in the air, as if to help the new drummer, not nearly as deft or handsome.
Next night/last night: while talking to another guy from another band the subject of the band having personnel problems (losing drummer and bass player) came up and he said: Oh I heard they bagged him because of his drinking. Then he had some other misinformation about my friends' band which we both happened to be watching - why they were dissolving.
I set him straight then, sending him off whimpering post-karate chop to the kneecap. The End.
Off to a complicated day. One involving artmaking, a juicy little freelance gig, some event coverage, an so much more.

ps: Heard from a local hippie that my photos are now appearing along with the Phish live cd recorded from near here, a secret I posted a while back right here on epinw which I couldn't tell, couldn't tell, couldn't tell - having been swept into the enthralling underbelly of rock and roll secrets.