(Not an MC Barman lyric; twas the only blog post title I could come up with on short notice. Do you like it? Does it sound flippant yet commanding yet “street” all at once?)
It’s been too long since I posted here, for all of the reasons you’d imagine given recent events. In short: life is expensive and I refuse to be caught without the dough to move, to pay bills, to eat, to buy formula and diapers and so on. Junior will be along, according to Alecia’s OB-GYN, in a little less than five months. Tomorrow I’m accompanying her to the doctor for a check-up, and at that time we’ll learn whether we’re having a Nodin or a Malia. A lot of you have been asking about this and trust me, you’ll know as soon as I do – promise.
Our landlady, Sonya, graciously gave us a “money tree” for good luck and what I guess you’d call a feeding seat this past weekend. (There’s a proper term for this but it escapes me at the moment.) I’ll miss her when we move; she’s been a lot easier and more pleasant to deal with than the myriad. evil landlords (companies) we’ve sparred with over the last half decade or so. We presently have the high chair (that’s it, right?) in our guest room and it’s more tangible proof that everything’s about to change very drastically for us.
Despite the somewhat disparaging tone I took here, I want to thank the Silver Jews for coming to the Ottobar last Wednesday night – finally getting to see David Berman and Co. perform many of the desolate, literate songs I’ve stuck on mix tapes or sung to myself in the car or shower while depressed or in great spirits was a long, long-awaited pleasure (even if having to scribble notes in half-darkness during the show meant I couldn’t enjoy the proceedings as much as I could have otherwise). Thanks to Doug Mowbray for coming along with me, for the world-weary damn-we’re-old-and-relationships-are-HARD-but-rewarding conversation, for the CDs, for helpfully dissecting the finer points of opener Heumann/Bell (I have a feeling I went to school with Dave Heumann’s sister a lifetime ago, but maybe not) even though the part of my review pertaining to them didn’t make it to print. (They were flat-out fantastic and you should support them if possible.) Doug stuck around for a while to get his copy of Actual Air signed by Berman, and was successful – I bugged out cuz I was exhausted and my back ached from crouching down for hours in a space that was too cramped for 6’5 me. Berman wrote “better shit’s coming” on the poetry book which bodes well for humanity, methinks.
Alecia is increasingly tired and sore and itchy and looks forward to this whole pregnancy thing being over and done; increasingly I’m psyched about parenthood and all it entails: Play dates! Car seats! Gerber’s! Baby babble! Reading to the tyke! Ooohing and ahhhing strangers! (Well, not so much that last one...)
Multiple Sclerosis Walk this weekend in Towson! (No rain, please.)
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