After four days of fun and seeing friends and going to shows and making good headway on Christmassy stuff, coming back to work and spending nearly all day in meetings has left me feeling rather bludgeoned.
At The Blind King show Sunday night, I started a photo project documenting all the tall guys who invariably stand in front of me in clubs. (Or — maybe I’ll learn that it’s the same damn tall guy.) Here’s the first image in the series:
Talking with Kristen between sets, I learned that the Miller High-Life-drinking hipster was actually someone I’ve talked to and whose work I admire. Hell, I have two of his prints hanging in my dining room. So Jef, if you happen to stumble upon this, I apologize — it’s nothing against you or tall people in general.
Finally, a big shout-out to Terri and Ezra for their holiday fête Saturday. Someday D and I will get it together enough to have a real party at our place. Though I doubt a turducken will make an appearance.
Well golly! Shout heard! But I have to stop this turducken meme here before people get the wrong idea. 1) I had to look up what a turducken was. 2) Terri’s veg! No foul was harmed in the making of our party. Oh, except the chicken satay.
Thanks for clarifying. No harm, no fowl — I was actually alluding to some Xmas parties my ex-bf and I used to throw, at which turducken was prominent at least once. Won’t happen again, as I live with a pescatarian now.
Ah yes…tall people at shows. What is it with the music we like and tall people? (Yet often, short musicians.) Years ago, I decided that when someone asks me what sort of music I like, the only accurate answer was: tall-people music.
As a tall person with illusions of hipsterdom, I must speak in defense of my pernicious breed. It’s not easy for us either, having to constantly check the bottom of our shoes for crushed short hipsters. I’m all for having the venues line us up in height order like in grade school, since I’ve been known to experience the occasional guilty pang if I know there are a lot of folks behind me.