Just Another Diamond Day
Now Playing: The Kinks--"Sweet Lady Genevieve"
That's two Vashti Bunyan references in as many days--there's clearly something wrong with me.

Yesterday was one of the most experientially diverse (?) days I've had in a while. Work was intensely and ferociously blah, and I felt like a convict released from prison at age eighty-five when I signed out around four.

A pity, too, because it turned into a gorgeous day. I was strongly tempted to remain home and fall asleep, but I decided to go to the WRAP office and see what could be done with the library before the tenth anniversary on Saturday.

Kim was there, as was Meredith Hochman of Planned Parenthood, also part of the WRAP board, and we all hung out and chatted--there wasn't all that much to do with the library, and what there is I'll try and finish Saturday afternoon. I also found out I wasn't the only straight person volunteering there, which was something about which I'd definitely been wondering.

After spending a rather pleasant half-hour or so (I talked and interacted with more people than I do most weeks), I rattled along to the CD release party of local songstress Kelly Caldwell, at a house on Division Street. I arrived way too early and spent what seemed like an hour hunched against the staircase by the door and scribbling in my notebook. Everyone seemed to know everyone else and I knew no one, so it seemed like the logical reflex. The good thing was that I got half of a new story finished--about 1500 words in one standing!

All was forgotten once the music started playing. "Sick Llama" opened with a batch of noise that made me feel like an extra in Eraserhead, so that was fun. Kelly Caldwell, though...

She turned the night into one of the two most enjoyable musical experiences I've yet spent in this town. Backed by members of Saturday Looks Good To Me and the Great Lakes Myth Society (I still have to hear the latter), she stood at the microphone, played the guitar, and sang ballad after ballad in a harsh yet lovely voice that reminded me of a more introspective Holly Golightly ("Stain" came immediately to mind). The songs, all melodically stunning, ranged from breakup dirges to revival-style singalongs, and had most everyone in the audience hypnotized, including myself. There were the odd ones out, of course--the party animal waving a 40 and telling everyone he was going to throw up (bearing a distinct resemblance to my brother's ex-co-worker Chris Cullotta from Godfather's Pizza in Baton Rouge). The other I can remember kept telling jokes no one else heard or understood, and I felt a little sorry for him. In any event, the show itself was a vastly more than adequate return for the anti-social agony I endured/created the hour before. I suspect there was a second set that I missed, but I had to work. A wonderful, wonderful time.