May 25, 2004

11:02 p.m.

Fame and Funky Socks

Rode another hour, as band work was delayed. My knees told me right away that they were sore from yesterday, so I went a little easier. Now I'm walking around like an old lady, kind of stiff and slow. Right now I'm on the phone with the band and we're working out DVD edits. I can hear Chris playing the audio bits in his basement studio, and Carol and I are writing copy and emailing it back and forth while Chris moves interview segments around. We have a friend who works for NPR and has a great "announcer" voice, and he's going to do a little voiceover at the beginning and end of the DVD, which will run 8 or 9 minutes in its entirety.

I like band meetings on the phone. Beats driving.

Like today; I didn't have to drive to Bloomfield, because the band came to my house to view the current copy and make notes for changes that Chris will do tomorrow. Chris also installed a cool widget onto my bicycle that's part odometer, part speedometer, part clock, part trip timer. I have to program it a little (and the instructions are a bit intimidating), but I can't wait to get stats on my next ride! It'll feed my inner obsessive control freak.

Then I got the mail; a little check, a bill, and two mags: Brookstone and Victoria's Secret. I've just given up on the local V.S. at the mall here, as they have decided that all women's tits should be larger than mine and I haven't found a bra that fits there in years. But I looked in the catalogue anyway, and HEY. They have all kinds of bras in my size. What's with the store? Are Manchester women just busty? Do they think nothing happens to one's hooters in the fifth decade? Anyway, one can never have enough underwear that fits, so I may actually order something. Brookstone, now; didn't find anything I didn't need, this time, though I do have an excellent little flashlight on my keyring, which I bought at a Brookstone in the Chicago/O'Hare airport.

Darwin is rehearsing for a show called "After Mrs. Rochester," which is apparently a very famous play (of which I had never heard until last week) about Jane Austen's madwoman in the attic. Which, by the way, was the name of my former trio: Madwoman in the Attic. He's also trying to finagle a concert for us at the college where he's performing, as he knows the arts director there. To that end we're making a band field trip later this month to see the play. Sounds juicy.

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Funny that bindyree was watching School of Rock last night, as I was doing the same thing. I found I can spontaneously rent it from Comcast, and Dar kept telling me what a fun movie it was, so last night I sprang for it. Quite enjoyable. But I wanted the little soul singer chick to sing more. Who IS she and where did they find her?

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Later I googled Kevin Rowland. Remember Kevin Rowland, the lead singer from Dexys Midnight Runners, wildly popular in the 80's ("Come On, Eileen")? I found a long interview with him and was interested to finally learn what happened to that band and to the rest of his career. He formed D.M.R. with the vision of creating a unique soul band, but with Celtic overtones and an almost punk sensibility. They shot to the top. Success freaked him out so he sabotaged everything. Legal battles, street fights, drugs, addiction, fear, bankruptcy, detox. Lots of therapy. Years went by. Still too fragile to perform, he's nevertheless made a new album. And he designs his own clothes, what he feels he needs to wear to be himself. Apparently they're dresses, though he still calls them men's clothes and confirms that he's not gay. Although sometimes he's attracted to men. But he doesn't have much experience with them. Probably because of drugs, addiction, fear, and a historical tendency to beat the crap out of anyone who comes within three feet of his coke.

Anyway, I applaud him for wearing dresses and being brilliantly himself. I saw D.M.R. live in NYC in the mid 80s. They were stunning. I wouldn't be him for the world.

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Band meeting's over; everyone's tired. It will probably rain tomorrow. I have the day off; must do laundry.