I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity.
Edgar Allen Poe
The trouble with fighting for human freedom is that one spends most of one's time defending scoundrels. For it is against scoundrels that oppressive laws are first aimed, and oppression must be stopped at the beginning if it is to be stopped at all.
- H. L. Mencken
Many people would sooner die than think; In fact, they do so
What I have been telling you, from alpha to omega, what is the one great thing the sigil taught me — that everything in life is miraculous. For the sigil taught me that it rests within the power of each of us to awaken at will from a dragging nightmare of life made up of unimportant tasks and tedious useless little habits, to see life as it really is, and to rejoice in its exquisite wonderfulness. If the sigil were proved to be the top of a tomato-can, it would not alter that big fact, nor my fixed faith. No Harrowby, the common names we call things by do not matter — except to show how very dull we are ...
-James Branch Cabell
March 29, 2018 - 12:07 a.m.
My therapy homework is making a list of things I accomplished. The idea is to focus on those not my failures. I'm thinking about a failure. I must drive that out of my head. I will go over what I have on the list and try and build on that. There are things I should be doing. I will try and do one. I might have to go shopping for treats to reward myself. I'm like the trained dolphins at a show except I need to be tossed chocolate not fish. I'm also like them because I'm bald.
Yesterday's mini-accomplishment. I called the drive of the bus that took us to March for Our Lives and asked about the glove I lost. He found it. I'm picking it up today. I wish there were someone I could call about my missing socks.
Does blogging count as an accomplishment? Yes, it does, at least doing it consistently since November 2000. It's been more difficult of late. I have not been as inspired. I'm going to eat and see if I find inspiration in bacon.
It's been more than 12 hours since I wrote that. The bacon didn't inspire me. I didn't go shopping so I didn't get food to reward me, but I got rewarded anyway. As I was struggling to get things done I got a text from a friend; he couldn't use his ticket for Rachael & Vilray (vill-ree) tonight and wanted to know if I wanted it. I of course jumped at the chance. The problem is that I still hadn't done something deserving of a reward. That got me to do one thing, the most time sensitive, so I could claim my reward with a clear conscience. As usual I didn't feel better after I did it. My anxiety is a weirdo.
I got to Rockwood about 35 minutes before showtime. There was a line to get in, I was afraid of that. I considered pulling a "I'm with the band," but I have that silly honesty thing going on. When I got in I found that the Statler and Waldorf seats were taken, as were the two tables on the mezzanine. So, I went downstairs. I have no idea why most of the people bothered to get there early; they were just milling around the room. As there was no seating downstairs I went for my next option, up front by the railing. The rail gives me a place to hang my bag and jacket.
I've written about them before but it's still best if I give some background on Rachael & Vilray as most people, even most of My Gentle Readers are not familiar with them. Rachael is Rachel Price of Lake Street Dive. Vilray went to the New England Conservatory of Music with her. They are old school chums and that comes out in their stage manner. I'm not sure if they use no stage craft and are acting naturally or are so skilled at stage craft that you can't see it. From what I know of them personally I suspect the former; they are just two friends having fun while they make incredible music.
They are unlike anyone else I listen to now but are in one of my sweet spots. They are built to please me. As a songwriter Vilray reminds of me of Dave Cantor, of Dave's True Story. That's high praise. He writes in the style of the 30s and 40s with the verbal pyrotechnics of Cole Porter. The lyrics are so clever. The music makes you want to slow dance. It drips with romance and elegance. Rachael sings with the pyrotechnics of Ella Fitzgerald; it's a perfect pairing.
My presenter friends should pay attention. They are still playing places like Rockwood Music Hall Stage 2 but they sold it out twice this week. The last time I saw them was at a house concert but that's a special case, The House of Love, Amy is a den mother of "The Scene," what the New York Times called the group that I've been calling the Aoifeverse. That's not because of Aoife's special position in it but because Crooked Still was my entry drug and Crookedstilliverse just doesn't work. Here's the thing presenters, I was one of the oldest people in the crowd. Unlike the usual coffeehouse or folk festival crowd this audience was young. The music wasn't folk, it's jazz. It isn't even acoustic, Vilray plays electric guitar, but nobody would bat an eyelash if they played a folk venue.
The reason I'm writing a now rare late-night edition of Wise Madness is that tomorrow I'm going to the Mets' season opener and then to see Cry Cry Cry at Town Hall. It's an interesting musical contrast. Cry Cry Cry is the archetype of NERFAverse or Falcon Ridge music. I will have many friends at that show, I didn't know anyone in the audience tonight. I knew the performers and I knew the doorman. I could call Mel the bouncer but as he's such a sweet guy I won't.
I better get this posted and get to bed. I have a long day tomorrow.
I signed the Pro-Truth Pledge:
please hold me accountable.
Memories: Not that Horrid Song - May 29, 2018
Follow on Feedly