Friday night, 9:45 PM. Prefunk at the Hooverville, knocking down caffienated beverages with my not so innocent mates--Steve, Randy, Vaughn. Good times---we were talking and realized we were nigh on 20 years as accomplices. Exit soon after, suitably orientated, across the street to the Showbox SoDo for...the....[dramatic blog pause]...the Drive By Truckers. I've wanted to see them for about five years now--they're southern goth rock, more or less, and they officially rocked!! I think I liked them more than my friends, although they were into them for sure. I noticed some people were just kind of watching with the old hand on the chin, hmmm look. Whatever. Some were totally getting into it, and I was part of thatsome. For the encore, a gorilla came on the stage, and then the opening band, The Hold Steady, and then they went on for about 45 minutes, at least, with Let There Be Rock (their version) and a VH cover, Ain't Talking Bout Love. Perfect. My favorite song though was from their new album--That Man I Shot, all about a soldier in Iraq killing someone in self-defense. DBT are liberal, anti-war, and this song just blisters the ears and psyche in all the right ways.
Nothing notable running wise this weekend. I ran a hard 2.5 hours Saturday, and then wandered around the Nookachamps on Sunday. I have been doing some cool headlamp runs. I was recently charged by a deer, rolled my ankle coming off a tower, and got ridiculously wet on some other Friday night, puddle stomping on the ridge. Life is good.
Andrew Wyeth, artist, passed away this week, at the full age of 91. He was one of the first modern day artists I ever heard of, and I really like his work. He's an inspiration, as it has always been fascinating to me some of the great ones are very much alive, whether it be musicians, writers, painters. There is so much to celebrate in life. Wyeth's paintings are set on the east coast, where I grew up, and many of them, like Christina's World above, have persons set in large fields with distant buildings or objects, seeming to communicate a certain nothingness and the subject's humble yet beautiful place in the world. Christina had polio, and is picking flowers. I don't know if Wyeth was a happy person or not, but he is considered by many one of the greatest artists of the last century, and I find his work easy to identify with and inspirational, in its own way.
Band of Horses
