Back from the desert, back from LA - and back to bullets. For efficiency's sake, of course.
- There's something about the desert. The space, the land, the sense of time on a geological scale. The stars at night. Then driving down, out of the hills, into the impossibly sprawling megalopolis. A stolen weekend - MOCA and LACMA and Point Dume - actually making it to the sand this time, body-surfing, riding wave after perfect wave into shore.
- Saturday night. Bootleg Theater. Small, but warm. Wood beams and hipsters and craft beer sold from a folding table. Exposed rafters in the back room, warm, lovely sound. I caught the end of Tift Merrit's soundcheck, an almost-empty room, hanging on every word. Then, later, once the show started she was incredibly present. Human. Funny. With a voice like Emmylou's and some solid songs.
Hiss Golden Messenger had a Dawes-type feel. Polished, but heartfelt. And I missed a bit of Tift's raggedness and earnestness - but it all fit together quite well.
- Sunday brunch in Los Feliz with amazing family. Wonderful, rambling conversation. Bookstore wandering. That sky. Prolonging the drive back to the airport until the last possible minute..
- Then home. Words sent into the space. Accepting a new job offer on my birthday, then taking J to Ted's Bulletin to celebrate.. Dancing into the unknown, but excited about the possibilities. Returning to the world of museums and libraries and archives. On the cusp of big changes - technology, copyright, trade. In a position where I can make a difference, hopefully.
- Off to Shenandoah again over Veteran's Day with J. To test the new backpacking tent and some new campstove recipes and try some new trails. Skipping St. Paul & The Broken Bones to do so - but excited about Mitzki and Loretta Lynn and Zadie Smith. And oh so much more.
