Darken The City Night Is A Wire
Now Playing: Bob Dylan--"Final Theme" from the Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid (1973) soundtrack
Before anything else transpires, note--shades of Ian Bannen in Hope and Glory (1987):

"My nan regularly gets tipsy at christmas and proceeds to inform the entire family about all the american soldiers she 'had' during the war. As she puts it 'Well I could have died the next day.'"
--"Darren, UK"

I own the "enhanced" version of Duran Duran's 1982 classic Rio, which contains the original videos for "Rio," "Hungry Like the Wolf," and "Save a Prayer." It's a real kick seeing these, to be honest. I want to go to Sri Lanka for several reasons, but one of them's definitely so I can wear a silly hat and sunglasses, ripping them off, upending my bar table at random, chasing painted nymphs (?) through the jungle, and standing atop ancient temples while surveying the neverending greenness.

Last night, I went to see the Casionauts at the Michigan Union Ballroom. It was a free show along with Otto Vector, so I made sure to show up right as the Casionauts began playing, as I'm not all that fond of Otto Vector. Nothing personal, it's just the music. I ran into Brandon outside the front doors, and it's a good thing, too, as apparently non-students have to be accompanied by U-M... people ("students, faculty or staff" sounds really cumbersome, but I guess there's little point in belaboring the issue as I've just written it; I'll let the sentence stand unedited as a little peek into my present boredom). The Casionauts, of course, were awesome, and it was good to see Ryan, but the weirdness of the surroundings was a little off-putting. The last time I'd been there was to hear our State Senator, Liz Brater (who was cool enough to give us a guided tour of the State Capitol in Lansing on Planned Parenthood Lobbying Day), and our U.S. Senator, Debbie Stabenow, talk politics... Canadian trash, CAFE standards, something like that. Hearing my favorite synth-paladins rock out in the same space was pretty weird, but eventually pleasantly so, with disused salad bar trolleys and bucolic scenes painted on the walls like those of some disgraced caudillo's villa. We ran into Andrew Brown, Vince, Murph, and I met Brandon's friend Katie. Brandon, Murph, Katie and I went to Ashley's afterward for a couple of pints (I have got to remember which country I live in), which was fun but weird as I haven't been to Ashley's in nearly a year or sommat.

Attempting to maintain the WRAP library, as I do most every Saturday afternoon, is a bit of a chore, frankly, but it's interesting looking at a few of the titles. Some of it's erotica, naturally, but there's a lot of fascinating stuff there. I even flipped through Jan Morris' Conundrum (1974) a little. Morris is probably one of my favorite authors, certainly one of this century's greatest travel writers (if not the greatest). She was born James Morris, and underwent gender reassignment surgery in the 60s and 70s. Her most famous work was probably the "British Imperial" trilogy, looking at the rise and fall of the British empire (from 1837, the year of Victoria's accession, to 1965, the year Winston Churchill died) in a series of impressionistic essays, all tightly focused on places and people and the connections between the two--Heaven's Command, Pax Britannica, and Farewell the Trumpets. I can't recommend them highly enough. Some of the other titles in the library are pretty predictable--stuff by Randy Shilts, Martin Duberman, Larry Kramer, etc.--but it's interesting to find these novels and non-fiction works grouped under "gay and lesbian literature" when they've got such a wide appeal. It made me think once again about trying to separate different genres and how irritating and infuriating it can be.

It is way too nice to be indoors right now. Fifteen more minutes and I'm out of here.