Weekend ups and downs
The Promise Breakers show Satuday in Syracuse was flippin' awesome. Nifty art, great music, and great people. Hooked up with some folks I hadn't seen in a longass time (like the ever-existent Gregg Yeti and Dave Woodson, who you may know as the artist who did the FTASM cover art,) met some new people who didn't suck and just generally verified that the Syracuse music scene still remembers me and still has a lot of friendly and interesting people floating around in it. No less than three people offered me a place to crash, and I talked to a couple of people interested in having me do more shows out thataway. Plus it was awesome to see Undergang again (check them out, seriously - Dead Kennedys meets the Talking Heads with heavier guitars and probably the most mesmerizing frontman in the whole goddamn northeast...you just can't take your eyes off Al Smead.)
Anyway, I got home at 4am Sunday morning, and somehow managed to get up at 9:30. A couple cups of coffee later I found myself unexpectedly in a really good mood. Kim and Steve were out shopping with Kim's Mom and I was actually gonna have time to do stuff like clean the catboxes and do laundry and fax stupid forms to stupid places and maybe even WORK ON MUSIC. But around 2, while attempting to clean a few cat turds off the floor (flung there courtesy of our newest little bastard of a cat, ¶, and his overly-enthusiastic method of burying his own messes by kicking litter, as well as whatever else happens to be in the box, as far into the distant horizon as possible,) I stood up too fast and hit my head on what amounts to a corner in our stupidly-shaped ceiling. The force was enough to knock me down, giving me rugburn in addition to what we eventually discovered (after a few hours in the emergency room - I really didn't want to go, but my insurance company's "nurse on call" insisted) was a minor concussion.
So now it's Monday, I'm at work, all the shit I was supposedly going to get done on Sunday is still waiting for me, my head hurts, and I'm experiencing but trying to fight the irritability that my ER discharge papers warned me about. On the plus side, Kim has purchased a cat box with higher walls, so hopefully now when ¶ kicks the litter around too hard it'll just bounce back, and he can deal with his own goddamn fecal shrapnel.
How're you guys?