Still

This is my bedside table.

I'm still sick. I've taken three days off from work (unprecedented!), gone to the doctor (started my inhaler and nasal spray yesterday; nothing feels different) and poor Lois and I have been pretty much in bed for the whole time, except when I have gone out to see live music at night.

Thursday night was the great Daniel Johnston, and the show was indeed GREAT. I am so glad we went. Plus it was short, and civilized, at the Lakefront Theatre, which is a lovely seated venue and nonsmoking. Two cute guys sat behind me and Sheila but I didn't talk to them - I need to get better at that. Every uber-sincere, tortured love song, of course, was written for me about DG and I almost choked up like three times. I am putting the movie about Daniel on my Netflix list right now. I sorta forgot about it.

I slept ALLLLLL day yesterday, and decided at the last moment to still go see Wanda Jackson at Fitzgerald's because a) the ticket was $25 with all the convenience charges and b) I needed her girly rock female inspiration. I went alone, which was good, only talked to Charles and Lisa a bit - I got there late, and missed part of the Lustre Kings' rockabilly set (but I'm glad I caught some of it, they are great!) then left as soon as it was over. I'm glad I showered and got out of the house, if for a bit.

My car CD player is broken - the Go-Go's compilation disc 2 got stuck in there - which sucks, but there IS an upside: now I am listening to my cassettes again, in the car. It's awesome! Yesterday I listened to Scrawl, and the Housemartins and Dwight Yoakam. It's great; the cassette era was a whole different bunch of music for me than my current/CD era - I'm not one who ran out and replaced everything — just too expensive. So I sang loudly to Scrawl's "I'm Sad" on the Eisenhower Expy last night on the way to Berwyn, and I'm still sick, but it made me happy. Weird how that works, innit?