Sunday 2 June 2002
ghetto fucking fabulous
You know, I was thinking recently that there's something rather comfortably edgy about being broke. I don't live on the edge very often, in fact, my idea of the edge is blasting Eminem really loud and running stop signs in parking lots. I am so not hardcore. But, as I said to my mom, at least I'm just broke, and not owing tons of money on a bunch of credit cards like some of my friends.
My phone got turned off on Thursday. I thought that they send you a little notice saying your phone would get shut off, but apparently they decided I'd been deliquent enough times to turn it off without warning. I sent the bill in Friday, along with my cell phone bill, and between that and my electric bill, getting my card fixed and developing some slides, my paycheck had evaporated in a matter of a day.
So the lack of phone has made it hard to update. But the lack of money makes it significantly easier to sit on my ass at home and stare at this screen. When one doesn't even have enough money for a Double Gulp at 7-11 (which comes to $1.37, by the way) your options are limited. Hello from the land of No Money.
I went to see Rasputina with my friend MT on Thursday. We left late enough to catch a ridiculous amount of traffic on the Schuykill "Expressway". We managed to listen to Rasputina's three albums all the way through before we finally found a place to park on 3rd street. MT is a huge Rasputina fan, with a huge crush on Melora Creager. We were walking up 2nd, with the hopes of catching their soundcheck when I asked him "So, do you think you'd recognize Melora on the street?"
To which he said, "Sure. She's right there."
And she was, standing on the street, trying to direct a white van to a parking sapce, which I supposed held their equipment. MT called her name, and she turned around. The look on her face almost made me laugh. She looked equal parts surprised and frightened. Rasputina isn't exactly a well known group, and I don't think she had fans coming up to her all the time.
She signed our cds, and MT talked with her for a few minutes. I just stood there, with that slightly sheepish and embarassed feeling I have everytime I met someone famous whose work I adore. She looked absolutely trashed. Road weary, I guess. Very quiet, barely smiled at either of us. She was maybe a little taller than me, with washed out blonde hair that was a shade of lavender in the back. Wearing overalls and no make-up. On one cd she signed, "Oh, Bethany Love, Melora" and the other "Hi Bethany Your Friend, Melora".
We hovered around long enough to not seem like freaks, and then MT began leading me toward South Street. There was a quick tour of all the surrounding record stores and then a lunch of pizza at Lorenzo's, where we sat in the grimy back dining room and read all the obscene graffiti scribbled on the walls.
The concert ended up being a little disappointing. Nana was sick, so it was just two of them (Melora and K. Cowperthwaite), and the set was all of 45 minutes long. Melora seemed to just as out to lunch as she was when we talked to her before the show. She didn't look at the audience once, her eyes fixed on some point on the wall. She didn't speak except for little speeches before each song, along the lines of "Yesterday, I had a very busy day. I shoveled coal and fed the chickens. But I took time out to thank god that he made me a good kisser."
Still, the music was on and it rocked. They have a drummer now, and the beat gave some of the songs a beat that really enhanced them. Melora's voice was just as good live as it was on her albums. I just really need to catch them on a night when they're more on.
(I did take a lot of pictures, but MT has them right now. Despite the fact that I forgot my zoom lens and I somehow forgot how to focus, some of them turned out really well - I hope to have them up here soon.)