Paint It [comma] Black

The Rolling Stones' "Paint It, Black" has that punctuation not because the band intended it but because the label made a typo back at the time of its release. And it continues to be listed that way on their albums to this day.

Proofreading is important.

Ten Years

Ten years ago tonight was my first date with my (now) wife.

Although it would be presumptuous to say we knew right away it would be the last first date either of us would have, I certainly can say (for myself) that if I didn't think there was a pretty reasonable chance things would work out thusly the date may not have happened at all. Given that not only did we work together at the time (that was how we met and got to know each other—somewhat taboo but not uncommon) but also at the time her older sister was my immediate supervisor. So if things didn't work out, not only could the situation be uncomfortable with a co-worker but my boss could have rained hell down on me.

I'm not much of a risk-taker, but I could tell from what I was feeling that asking her out was worth it; something told me I'd regret it if I didn't.

Return of the Squirrel

Recently my wife and I were in her car, sitting at a red light. From the passenger seat I glanced over and noticed a squirrel start to scamper up on a tree in the yard of the house on the corner. I remarked aloud to her, in an imitation of Dug the dog from Up, saying in that voice "Squirrel!" The windows in the car were rolled up, and the tree was probably around 20 feet away so I couldn't imagine the creature heard me, but almost on cue the squirrel froze, only a couple feet up the trunk, grasping the bark and defying gravity. Although its body was vertical, its head turned and looked straight at us. It stayed there, motionless, not breaking its gaze upon us. However, I doubted we were the actual focus of its attention and there must be something else behind us that was holding its interest.

After several seconds of this ostensible eye-contact I raised my hand and waved at it jokingly, saying in a low voice "Hi squirrel," figuring this would be ignored and dispel the notion it was, in fact, looking at us. My wife admonished me immediately not to taunt the animal, but I didn't think my action was threatening even if it did see gesture.

The squirrel broke its pose and ran down the tree and into the street at the car, stopping about six feet away.

Get the Kinks out: Where all the good times went

The other day in the break room at the office I quoted "Where Have All the Good Times Gone?" and one of the other people in the room (11 years my junior) had not heard of the Kinks. It's not that she merely hadn't heard that song of theirs; she drew a blank at the mention of the band altogether.

Rhett Miller at Largo: Not like the old days

Having seen Rhett Miller many times at the old Largo club (on Fairfax) last decade, seeing him perform at the new Largo (at the Clarinet Theater on La Cienega) for the first time last Wednesday came with a set of associations.

The old venue was a small club with tables where one was obligated to buy dinner (typically pasta); the new venue is a few-hundred seat theater with rigid seats facing an elevated stage. As such, rather than being a standing-room-only event it appeared about a half-full show; not only did it lack the intimacy but it also seemed like less of a big deal, even though a decade ago his shows happened monthly (because he lived locally) and now happens only on rare occasions when he's in town (now that he lives in upstate New York). We didn't have to watch for the announcement of the show on the venue's website and get on the list quickly before it filled; we literally could have walked up two minutes before show time and only ended up maybe seven rows farther back than we did (which still would have provided a fine view of the stage).

I know how that seems like an improvement, but... well... that's not how a Rhett show should be.