A few years ago I picked up a copy of Eugene Chadbourne's "I Hate the Man Who Runs This Bar" at the local Borders. I have no idea what I was thinking: I'm not a huge fan of his (though I saw him place once and enjoyed the show, at the now-defunct "Gypsy Café" near our old apartment on Ann Street). And though I've been fascinated by music to varying degrees over the years, there's no reason I'd be drawn in by the cover copy's promise of an "essential guide... for real musicians who have decide to make a life and living out of doing what they love". But now it's one of these books I pick up and reread every few years. A little rambling, but packed with funny anecdotes. I picked it off my shelf again this weekend.
Besides that, I've been taking care of a few loose ends, trying to get my inbox under control, doing a few chores.
Yesterday our friend Graham dropped by on his way from London, Ontario to Berkeley, California--he had a few hours to kill on his way to a hotel near the airport where he was leaving his car and overnighting before an early-morning flight. Our evening's entertainment was a couple slices at Silvio's, a Contemporary Music Ensemble concert at Rackham, then something hot to drink back at our place--with November here, it's finally getting chilly.
Wednesday night in lieu of the French conversation group's usual cafe meeting there was a halloween party at someone's place. I put on my one (weddings, funerals, and halloween) suit, dropped by the Beer Depot and asked for something Halloween-themed (some pumpkin ale that turned out to be pretty good), and walked to their place through a neighborhood full of trick-or-treaters. I was just another representative of a stereotype there: most males came with beer or wine and either no costume or something they could throw together in the morning out of their closet; most females brought real food and costumes. Oh well. It was a good time.
Sara's got a lingering cold and I've been a little low on energy myself, so we've otherwise been staying home most nights and doing not much.