Look, I'm well aware that my last few posts have been heavy on the clips. A crutch, most definitely--shouldn't I be writing more? But hey, I found a clip of one of my musical heroes, Marshall Crenshaw, in a concert that took place just a few days ago. You think I'm not going to put this up?
This performance, incidentally, happened in Baltimore...And if I still lived in Maryland, you're damn right I would've been there. But my life in Maryland is tied inseparably to the end of my marriage, which is interesting, because I have a funny anecdote involving my ex's reaction to Crenshaw performing this very song...which could lead me to a rumination about things that could have been, and paths not taken, and...well...Say, how depressing do you want this to get? Because I can go on and on if you want.
No? Okay, then.
If my tone today seems even more rambling than usual, it's probably because I'm getting itchy to hit the road. A week of vacation time stretches before me like Delmar at nap time, and though I can't afford to spend it all living riotously, I'll be taking off for a day or two in my old stomping grounds of Iowa City. I wish I could say I was planning on reconnecting with old friends or something, but sadly, the main reason I'm going is to enjoy a black raspberry malt from Whitey's Ice Cream. It's all about priorities, you see...
