Easter. Feh.
Blah blah Son of God has risen.
Lackadaisical Catholic checking in.
I celebrated by attending services at St. Mattress, shopping for overpriced hippie food at Whole Foods, doing some freelance writing work, and wasting time on the interwebs.
Splitlip Rayfield – come to the promised land
Wichita’s own Splitlip Rayfield – can I say enough about their charms? Probably not.
If the Ramones did bluegrass, with their frenetic energy and sometimes-indeceipherable lyrics – you might end up with Splitlip Rayfield. SLR is a quartet, sadly taken to a trio due to cancer’s grasp on Kirk, of fabulous energy and wonderful musicianship. Dude, they have a GAS TANK BASS – beat that!
I saw them many times in Wichita, and they don’t often tour, so I was quite lucky to catch them in Denver at the Cervantes in Jan 08. Excellent show, as always. It’s little reasons like this that I miss Wichita.
Catch a show filmed in Wichita at the Cotillion: Part 1
The fibs we tell ourselves
What I *should* be thinking, as a soon-to-be single woman: “You don’t need a partner to make your life complete. Make your own way, and everything will be fine.”
What I *do* think: “Sniff. I miss being close to someone.”
Shame spiral ensues.
I’m going on a ski/relaxation weekend with friends to Winter Park this weekend – all couples. Same set is going on a cruise in June – all couples. My ass is going, anyway, because there’s certainly fun to be had. I’ll be the pudgy single girl lurking in a bikini. Because, man….fuck it.
