hydrate or die
kar trouble was right– my problem of the past few days, of fogginess and sluggishness and crabbiness and whatnot, was by and large hydration. late this afternoon commenced the drinking of many tap waters and the return of the feeling “OK”.
not that the past few were without merit– yesterday when i finally left the house me and baby bear went and got some technical pizzas ($2 smalls on tuesday), then walked around elm park looking at the new public sculpture installation, all of which is pretty great, and boy are we kicking ourselves for each talking ourselves out of it when the email arrived. boo us! my favorite piece was the small garden of enormous, striated buttplugs. also good was the three burned wooden obelisks crawling with all color of tiny insect, and the far-away listening tube for spying on park bench mashers and playground bullies. en route we saw jon “the prince of worcester” shirley, and all together we set up our own sculpture in the park, which was an artificial christmas tree we found on the sidewalk in a box. jon was on his way to look for the huge turtle that lives in the pond, and then he did look for it, and then he found it, and it was great– maybe three feet from nose to tail, with a head as big as a flatiron. we also saw several turtles of a more manageable size, and ducks, and a heron, and those fish that eat your spit when you spit in the water (you know, stupid fish). drove in with nik and jose lynn to providence, for that show at the stairwell, which was fun but as implied above, i was pretty out of it. eli keszler played solo drum set with bells and bowed cymbals, totally awesome and inspiring, as it was the last time. the other bands were on tour together, and it was a good tite jazz band called “other people do the killing”, and then that same band but with a singer, which was called “puttin’ on the ritz”. it helped that it was a beautiful night outside with fresh salad on a sidewalk table, but this second act really cleared the room, and even i eventually left– not offensive or actionable, just one joke that isn’t funny anymore over and over again, the joke being “inept lounge singer”. pretty miserable really, but the band, i thought, was great. i played not great, messing up a lot and to some degree “just getting it over with”, but there were times i forgot who and where i was and what i was doing and why, and how i got there, and that made it all worthwhile. again, super out of it, feeling better now.
[...] The Union Station garage isn’t open; some of the vacancies there will be filled. There is cool art in Elm Park. [...]