Saturday, March 26, 2005

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Tara and I went to see Lou Barlow play at the Sunset Tavern last night. (Added bonus? The guitar player from Mudhoney, who has stopped being punk and started being folk-y, but continues to be totally hot.) I haven't seen Tara much lately--we've both been so busy and our schedules just haven't been meeting up--and I've missed Lou the last 5 times he's been in town, so I was really excited at the prospect of combining them both into one evening. As we ended up with a bunch of time to kill before the two sets we wanted to see, we got to indulge in an awful lot of people watching.
Watch out, Seattle: Tara and I are watching you, and we're making up stories.
"See those three over there? Well, I think that those two are hooking up on the side, and that other guy is so in love with her and doesn't realize that his two friends are sleeping together. And they don't want to tell him, so they're keeping it a secret. Someday soon they're going to get very drunk and have a threesome."
"Ok, so that girl?"
"Which one?"
"The one with the cool shoes. She looks like she's been doing way too much heroin."
"Yeah, she is a little shaky."
"All her friends call her 'black tar heroin.'"
"Hi, my name's black tar heroin, but you can call me 'tar' for short."
"Dude, that guy is nine feet tall! He'll probably stand in front of us."
"Ok, so if I got to take home anyone in this room? It would be that guy over there. No, the other one. Holding his jacket? Yeah, him."

Lou's set was fantastic--he was funny and brilliant and made me feel smiley and hopeful and fourteen. My favorite shows are the ones in a small room played by a dude with a guitar. He showed us what to do when someone passes out while you're playing, which is to finish your song and then do a cover that everyone knows. It was worth getting home four hours before I had to get up.

Dear Lou Barlow,

Congrats on the new baby! Thanks for coming back to Seattle and playing some old Folk Implosion stuff. Did you feel like the Beatles when two people fell down at your show? I often forget how free and goofy your songs make me feel.
What I think is that you and Mike Doughty ought to get together and play for a show. But then I think that if you did that, I might die.
I'm willing to risk it. Sorry your cat left.


Dear Guy Who Passed Out,

Man, are you ok? That looked like it hurt, when you cracked your face on the edge of the stage.


Dear The Rest of the Audience,

By the end of the show, I felt like you were all my new best friends. Let's go have drinks.


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