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3:31 p.m. : 2002-07-13 : I went to the L show last night and all I got was this lousy hangover

Or, if you�re going to lie, make sure you remember what exactly you said to exactly whom. Some people�s lying consists of omission; leaving out names, places, people, things, details and boiling everything down to salt. Then they slap on some Thoughtful Bon Mots about art and artists and Jung with such evangelism that it quickly becomes obvious that who they�re really trying to convince is themselves. They doggedly hump their own words until they�re eunuchs. I�m not sure why it makes them eunuchs, I just like the idea that someone�s vain literary masturbation could give them chrome-smooth bumpless nethers, like some kind of Hell for the artist with no integrity.

Anyway, that�s not the kind of liar I originally set out to write about. It�s the kind that talks and talks, flagrantly spewing info here and there over the years, ambivalently forgetting what has fallen where. Now, I�m not particularly na�ve when it comes to the bubbling cesspool of celebrity�the difference between the creature that crawls in and the mangled creature that crawls out�but I thought, somehow that mild celebrity wasn�t as bad, but last night was so weird I�m not sure where to file it into my schema. We went to see L play. I hadn�t seen them in forever. I hadn�t seen K in like three years. Anyway, we met a long time ago, when my old band Varjak was happening. This is how we met: I saw that a band called L was playing a show with us and hence hopped on their site and listened to some clips. They were great. K was amazing. This was not long after their first album had come out. So I emailed them, saying, �We�re playing a show with you, blah blah, like your stuff, na na na na.� K emailed me back, something about how surprising it was to find another nice non-catty female in rock and all that. Strangely, they weren�t playing with us after all, it was another band with the same name with less letters� anyway� From then on we emailed back and forth and IM�d once in awhile, she made some music recommendations, I gave her some of our stuff to listen to, and when they came to Boston we all hung out after their show. While we were with them Dave�s wife (at the time) was literally giving birth to their son but that�s another story. Well, we had a grand time and stayed in touch for awhile, discussing how being in the same band as your boyfriend is hard, blah blah. Anyway, when my Mom got really sick I inadvertently shaved a lot of �incidental� acquaintances off of my to-contact list and she was one of them. I just didn�t have the energy. We emailed again later just to give updates.

The show was good. She wailed as usual, said �fuck� a lot, railed on the music industry, headbanged with flying wet blonde braids, contracted her glitter-slathered washboard abs, tried to get her tubby seventeen-year-old fans to show her their tits. I always love watching her. She�s a total powerhouse. Although Wil pointed out that she looked rather strung out on the whizbang and I have to admit while I like the �not an ounce of body fat� look, I prefer her old look better. Maybe it was just the tan that was too much. She was blonde and pale before and has a mouth that naturally turns down, and you know how rigorous exercise can make a girl�s face get weird�remember when Jennifer Anniston must have been doing those facial exercises and her skin looked like it could barely stretch over her muscular snake face? Of course she was still beautiful but it was too harsh. To me, that snake face thing screams fitness desperation. Speaking of desperation and Friends, one moment I found hilarious on the show was when Joey was Charlton Heston�s ass double in the shower for a movie, and while they�re filming the director says, �Cut! What was that?� And Joey says, �I was going for quiet desperation.�

So back to the L show. Not surprisingly she didn�t remember us at first when we came up to chat. In her defense, mild celebrity does that. You�re all over the country doing kissy kiss with people left and right and can�t be expected to remember every poor sot that gets face time. Finally she remembered us and asked about the band and we told her we hadn�t been playing together as Varjak for some time, but that seeing them live again, the three of us together, made us all want to start it up again. Only this time Dave and Wil would both play guitar instead of Dave on drums. Then Wil says, �Where�s your boyfriend/husband/whatever he is?� And she�s like, �WHO?!� And I say, �That�s just Wil�s inarticulate way of asking where I is.� And she says, �Oh, we were never together. That was just a rumor that was started because of his immigration status.� And the three of us were like, �Oh, ok. Sorry.� And she�s like, �He�s over there.� So Wil and Dave go to talk to I and he FULLY does not remember them one iota. So the three of us were surprised and mildly sickened because the two of them fully WERE together. She and I used to talk about it. The fact that we both had boyfriends in bands. Boyfriends that we lived with. She told me they were engaged but not to tell anyone because she didn�t want �the fans� to know and get all cuckoo about it. Yes, this was years ago but I was so taken aback because it was such a lie! I mean, does mild fame make you so paranoid that you�re making things up left and right? I don�t understand! Why change history? Or was she lying to me all of those years ago. And if so, what would be the point? I didn�t come to her as a fan originally. Do I look like a fan? Then why you tryin� to play me like one? (Sorry� just a sad attempt at a poor Pulp Fiction spin-off moment that failed miserably� MWAAAAAAAAH). Wil made a good point that maybe she needs to be �single� right now, for the fans, for the sales, because God knows a woman isn�t marketable unless you can have sex with her. And what�s super irritating about that is that she did this whole completely boss onstage mid-song rant about the record industry and how this Big Exec told her he could make her a star if she sang about girlie things because no one wants to hear a chick sing rock �n roll. And she said she�s sign on the line when Hell freezes over. So she makes a huge deal about integrity and no-holds-barred rock �n roll, all the while totally engineering her image into something it�s not. Yes, rock �n roll and morphing images go hand in hand, but I have a problem with hypocrisy on all levels. The whole thing made me feel dirty.

Here�s a self-indulgent scrapbook of goods from my Varjak days:

That�s me on the left, Wil, Lance and Dave at Memphis b-b-q, the best b-b-q these parts have ever seen but unfortunately didn�t realize it and Memphis went away. Wil�s sister No�lle took the picture(s) and Lance doctored it (them).

Yesterday was the anniversary of our Great Scott show. We played three sets and didn�t have a drummer yet. My now brother-in-law Brian sat in for a set. I�ll tell you, �Summertime Rolls� without a drummer is some weird shit. This is the night we met Dave who had listened to our stuff online in his quest for a drummer for his own band and liked it so much that he wanted to play drums for us. It�s kind of funny�Wil, Dave and I hung out last night and it was kind of an anniversary for us all. Awwwwwww. Kristin just told me she has some negatives from that show so I�m going to use her darkroom to develop them.

I always thought it looked like I was licking the mic. I am ashamed to say I am not licking the mic. Erich Wiedner took these two photos. He is a crazy Austrian that I haven�t seen in years. He lives in Japan with his child and hilarious wife who calls him Udo, which apparently means penis. I found a definition as �A big good for nothing fellow.� That sounds like a cock to me! (It also means plant, noodle, and proprietor of a noodle shop!)

Anyway, it�s time to fucking rock �n roll again. All I�ve wanted to do for the last year is play live.

In other news, I enjoyed stepping out of The Squiz long enough to check out the local color several miles away. The woman next to me was so deliciously 80�s with her acid washed jeans, high hair, black tank top with little silver chains hanging on the arms, cheap perfuma masking tuna, and so forth. She was posing like a porn star on the barstool next to me, standing with one knee high up on it, and her chest all out, looking like she could mount her boyfriend at any time.

�I nevah wouldah metchu if you hadn�t had a cigahrette hanging outta ya mouth,� she says to �im, she says.

�You wouldah found a way. I saw you �n yih friends as soon as yih came in.�

I LOVE MASSACHUSETTS.

Word of the Day for Saturday July 13, 2002:

pari passu PAIR-ee-PASS-oo; PAIR-ih-PASS-oo, adverb:

At an equal pace or rate.

Expand the state and [its] destructive capacity necessarily expands too, pari passu. --Paul Johnson, [1]Modern Times: The World From the Twenties to the Eighties

Independent hedge funds can sell their holdings in a stock all at once, but if a hedge fund is part of a mutual fund company, it generally must sell pari passu... with the company's mutual funds that hold the same stock, constraining flexibility. --Geraldine Fabrikant, "Should You Bristle at These Hedges?" [2]New York Times, November 8, 1998

Pari passu literally means "with equal step," from Latin pari, ablative of par, "equal" + passu, ablative of passus, "step."

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