Neko Case was amazing. I decided that the main reason I like her so much is that she combines the best of what Southern culture has to offer with the Twin Peaks-ness of the Northwest. And she's charming as all hell.
Conversation in the cab on the way to the show:
DK: So [Red Dirt Girl], how's that rash on your ass? Has it cleared up at all?
Me: Actually, it's gotten pretty puss-y. I think I might have to have it looked at.
Tracey: Really? Have you popped any of the little puss thingies? How big are they?
DK: You girls are gross.
Me: Don't start what you can't finish.
Conversation between the couple on our right, overheard during the opening act at the show:
Woman: This Neko lady had better sound like Sheryl Crow. You promised me that she would sound like fucking Sheryl Crow.
Man: Well, I don't know if she exactly--
Woman: And what's going on with this band?* They're hurting my goddamn ears.
And later, in the middle of Neko's set, from the couple on our left:
Man: Dude, she's got it. I don't know what it is, but she's got it.
Woman: Ow, honey, not so tight.
Man: I mean, she's like a fresh of breath air. Just a fresh of breath air.**
***
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Saturday I went to see Bowling for Columbine, and surprised no one by love love loving it. Go see it and call me, I'm dying to talk about it. Marilyn Manson functions as the intellectual and moral center of the film, and I was loving him too, even though he generally scares the pants off of me.
At the end of the movie, the whole Capitol Hill audience burst into applause. On my way out of the theater, a sweet older man handed me a poem that he had written, and I felt all flushed with love for my city and my neighborhood and the world in general.
You could tell I wasn't a real Seattlite, though, because I put up the hood of my jacket before I stepped out into the rain.
*A very good bluegrass band, which the crowd was loving.
**I only wish that I were making this shit up.
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