nah pop, no style

Today is Wednesday the 13th. Fairly meaningless to even the most superstitious. Tonight I read at the show at Roboto I mentioned last week — Cages, me, Natty Mike’s Amplifier (apparently this is Evan doing things with, yes, Natty Mike’s amplifier), and Mantooth aka Gregsetsfire aka Greg Mantooth Is A Liar. Not completely sure, but I’ll probably just read the normal stuff. Maybe with FEELING. 7PM. Tonight. Do come.

Other plans for the future include going to check out Chihuly at Phipps. I PROMISE that I’ll actually report back about that. Though my expertise in that area isn’t horribly impressive. What do I know about glass artists? Just that there are seemingly thousands of them in the area exhibiting their work this summer.

Time to catch up on some things.

• Missed Wax Fang, but Centipede and Oxford Collapse were both spot-on at the arts fest Saturday evening. Oxford Collapse was the best I’ve ever seen them. Other highlights of the show included: the dude dressed like LL Cool J who claimed to be the best chef in Pittsburgh, the Shadyside-looking girls who took a picture with Lingo because they were city girls and presumably had never seen anyone like him, Lingo pouring red wine on Dan from Oxford Collapse’s shirt, bike messenger looking dudes skanking onstage,  a 50ish guy with a cowboy hat, button-down shirt, shorts and tennis shoes who was rocking out, etc. etc.
• The French Open women’s final was kind of a gimme; Ivanovic started out strong but pretty quickly folded to Henin. The men’s final was exciting — at points I thought Federer might actually take it.  I’m pulling for Nadal to pull off the major upset at Wimbledon now. Cheer with me.
• I ate twice at D’s this weekend, which means I’m not allowed to eat there again for at least two weeks. I’d rather not burn out on it. I think I’ll turn my attention to the ice cream place on the corner. Saturday at D’s was great; strangely enough, it was pretty empty and our waitress was very attentive. Sunday at D’s was back to the average D’s experience: really good food and beer, when it finally came, and wasn’t the wrong thing (like that veggie dog that I ordered that came as a beef dog).
• Also, it’s smoothie season.  Get all your fruit servings for the day in one slurpy glass of tasty stuff. Last week was strawberry for me, this week is peach. Don’t let the season pass you by.
• Read Vintage Didion, a collection of her essays on stuff like Patty Hearst, the Central Park jogger, the Reagans and the Clintons. Now on to Let Us Now Praise Famous Men again. This time I might finish it. Or maybe not.

I’m hopping onto this last-minute show — next Wednesday, June 13, at Roboto, 7PM or whatever. Cages play, I read, maybe someone else does a thing. Come out! It’ll be chill and fun, I’m pretty sure.

Friday night, genius-friend Rick Gribenas and his genius-friend, Mathias Kristersson, unveil new electronic compositions Friday night at SPACE. Same night as the Circuits of Steel artists at the arts festival; check them out as well.

THEN, Saturday night, Oxford Collapse at the arts festival with Centipede, Natura Nasa, and Wax Fang. All very good bands, totally worth looking forward to. I hope it’s not raining. Oxford Collapse preview forthcoming in tomorrow’s paper.

Also, early warning, Des Ark are back on June 30 at Roboto with Julie Sokolow and a band that’s called something like “Every Stock Car Ever” or something of that nature. Aimee’s got a full band with her now; I’m not sure who makes up the band, so we’ll see about that.

Oh yeah also DON’T FORGET ABOUT JOE JACK TALCUM. That show (June 22 at Roboto) will be the kickoff of Weird Paul and Amoeba Kneivel’s tour to boot.

Andybot, where hast thou been?

Well . . . work has been busy, and is nearly the only time I’ve been online lately, given my (heavenly) lack of home internet access. Also the little time I have had has been spent working on previously mentioned future blog project that needs work. (The previous sentence may or may not be the result of a challenge to write a sentence with three different tenses of the same verb in a row with no punctuation in between . . .)

Also, Friday night, after making tasty seitan reubens with friend, sat down and drank bourbon-spiked iced tea and re-fell in love with Didion. I’m afraid to read her most recent book, though (the one that’s been turned into a play starring Vanessa Redgrave). Of all things, it struck me pretty hard to be reading about the very early childhood — infancy in fact — of someone who I know died at age 40, not long ago. Especially knowing the writer, the mother, is still alive.