"When loneliness leads to bad dreams and bad dreams lead me to calling you." - Rilo Kiley, Portions For Foxes (Live)
A Gingerbread Man married a Peanut.
Can you just imagen (sic) what their children will look like?
-A collage (picture of the happy couple not included) and story by an 826 NYC student
When Fiona Apple skulked by us heading the wrong direction after the Revenge of the Book Eaters benefit show at Royce Hall last night, I knew it had officially been the nerdiest indie hipster day of my life. I should've known by my stealing every free moment I could to alternate between mental_floss's Cocktail Party Cheat Sheets and What's the Difference-I doubt you'll find nerdier "fun read" bathroom books than these.
I should've known when I revealed to Jen that I was actually more excited to see Sarah Vowell than everybody's indie crush, Jenny Lewis. Lewis, who has been more impressive with each live performance--coming across as a some 21st Century amalgam of Dusty Springfield and Loretta Lynn plus some other intangibles I can't quite put my finger on--held her own but there's just something about Sarah Vowell's wry tone and unabashedly bookish style that gets at me. One of my top 5 girlfriend requirements is "wit and banter" and Vowell, who read a piece of hers about her favorite explorer, has that in spades.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, the Mountain Goats were great fun and while I find Aimee Mann a little boring and corny, she performed beautifully. Dave Eggers presented a hilarious video about what the 826 organization does and made me anxious to volunteer with the group. I'm hoping they do make it over to the east side and open an actual storefront like they have in the Bay and NYC and Seattle and Chicago.
One of the other things I should've known before walking into Royce Hall but that occurred to me about halfway through the show is that I see the world now, maybe always, through a prism of unforgivable Blackness. I looked around the audience and saw less than a handful of black faces. There was not a hint of blackness on stage (nor any of their other stages if I'm not mistaken). Does that say something about indie hipster nerd-dom? Why do the rhythmic-slam stars of the Def Poetry set rarely intersect with this lit-rock star squad? Are they just two completely different worlds?
Maybe they are.
But where does that leave a cat like me?
Hopefully, hanging out in the stacks with Zadie Smith doing things inappropriate for a library.