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@ 12:43 pm on 04.08.03

Last night Luke said the sweetest thing while we were lying in bed. He had just turned the lights off and he knew that I had experienced something of a disappointing day when he said, �I was thinking yesterday that you�re all I need in the world. I thought to myself that as long as I can make you happy, my life will be worth something.� So, there went my composure. Several tears slipped down my cheeks and he just pulled me in closer. He asked me why I was crying. I didn�t think it was audible, seeing as my breathing didn�t change and there certainly wasn�t any sobbing involved. I guess he just knows me. Either that, or I was moistening his shoulder with what few tears managed to fall before I was able to rein it in.

Sunday was very entertaining and we were treated to twice the entertainment we had planned for. M&G called up to let us know their ETA (They said three, which means sometime between three-thirty and four.) and asked if we wanted to go see Spirited Away with them after they went to look for some books at Frugal Muse. Luke agreed and at the chime of three-thirty, the buzzer sounded, sending the cat streaking into the bathroom. We suited up and off we went.

Car conversation basically revolved around C and how he was not in fact going to California, largely because his trip mates pulled out at the last second. He claimed that his friend K, who is Pakistani, claimed that he didn�t want to cross state lines saying that if he was pulled over for anything he could be deported as he is here illegally. K then went on to say that he was going to New York in the coming weeks, so it really makes little sense. C said he�d go sometime this summer when he could manage to get some people to go with him. I have to say that I was glad that his plans fell through. He�s a nasty person and I don�t particularly enjoy seeing good things happen to abhorrent people. That, and back when he had begun planning this little affair, when Luke asked with whom he was going, C responded, �With K and he�s going to get some sluts.�

Spirited Away was good. It was relatively cool to look at, but the story itself was difficult to understand. I am trying to attribute that to the fact that in Japanese the story line may have been clearer, and come of that clarity may have been lost in translation to English. Who knows, though, anybody with any sort of exposure to Japanese animation knows that it doesn�t have to make sense. I was just thankful that it didn�t involve any of the �shitting dick nipples� (Luke�s words) that seem to be so prevalent. My exposure to hentai has been limited, but what I have seen does not intrigue me in the least. The film was longer than I would have imagined and because we had just switched the clocks, coming out of a theatre at six forty with the sun still shining was more than a little unnerving. I suppose it was to everyone else as well, as M was surprised by how late it was and was putting serious pressure on us to decide where to eat; she somehow knew that New Orleans Take Out was closed on Sundays.

We ate at a little Southwestern place called Pasqual�s on Monroe St. The food was quite good and very inexpensive, though it did seem to take a little longer than it would have for two enchiladas, a bowl of soup, and a quesadilla. I think I have also figured out a new, more enjoyable way to prepare enchiladas as well. I felt kind of rushed to eat quickly, though, because on the way there M had seemed to be so pressed for time. Of course, I do know that she is just easily put on edge, as I will relate later.

With a belly full of Southwestern goodness, we were off to see the slideshow, the wonderful slideshow of Trachtenburg. Oh, pardon me; did I just wax Wizard of Oz? It�s been a long time since I was in a bar/club. As soon as the door opened, I recognized that smell of stale cigarettes and sickly sweet dried alcohol. Smells reminiscent of being three years old and sitting at the bar drinking Shirley Temples waiting for the plans of Maynard�s set to be finalized for that night. It�s the smell of pool tables and dirty brawls. I expected my view to be of kneecaps and chair cushions until I realized that I was standing eye to eye with the ticket taker and he stamped my hand.

We originally sat at the front of where the normal tables begin, but M saw a bar table directly in front of the stage and decided to go check it out, saying that better pictures could be taken from that vantage point. Off she went, leaving G, Luke, and me to cool our heels. G decided to buy a CD, so he walked across the room to do so. Luke and I conversed among ourselves. Five minutes or more had passed since M had decided to scope out seats and Luke happened to see her sitting there alone. As soon as we got to the table, she started hollering at G about how she was stuck there waiting, that we had blown her off, etc. What she didn�t understand was that we had thought that she was going to come back to us and say whether or not it was a decent table. When the girl came from the bar to ask if we wanted anything, she said, �No, we�re arguing.� It was Luke who eventually said, �Calm the hell down. We�re here now, so quit yelling.� Only then did she relax.

The opener went on a little late, but he was really good. Langhorne Slim. He would play it off like he was about to sing something terribly sad, only to have the chorus be about some woman�s ass, sending the audience into laughter. He had a very bluesy, almost verging on bluegrass sound. He encouraged dancing and playing with balloons during his set and immediately after he left the stage, the drum tech came on and insisted that the Trachtenburgs couldn�t come on stage until most of the balloons had been taken care of. Being the non-involvement types, we shunted several balloons to the people behind us and let them pop them.

The Trachtenburgs were unlike nothing I�d ever seen. The father and nine-year-old daughter are on stage, while the mother runs the projector. Dad plays the Hammond B3 organ and guitar, while Rachel plays drums. Both sing. It was so cute. Rachel would get annoyed with Jason for screwing up or taking too long to introduce songs: �Daaaaad, hurry uuuuuup.� I would imagine that she was getting tired, probably having spent most of the day on the road. Apparently, they travel around the country to various estate sales and purchase the slides of the deceased. One song was titled Vietnam, Watergate, and Eggs, showing pictures from Vietnam, high ranking officials in Watergate, and a polyester-clad seventies family with Easter eggs. Suffice to say the show was good. Their showmanship isn�t that of your typical performers, preferring to allow for screwups and longwinded introductions rather than the clipped slippery intros of most groups. Granted, having a nine year old on drums would probably have to allow for that, as most often it was she getting up from her kit, walking to the organ to have a sidebar with dear old dad. I grabbed a tee shirt for Luke and I to share. A well spent fifteen dollars.

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