After Nine Hours Sleep...
I feel like myself. Saturday has such a strange feeling, as if it's the only day I'm truly awake. I'm not a fan of rushing, the hurry to get places on time or else
, the fear of missing the bus, missing my connecting bus, getting to work a few minutes too late, all just to listen to the silence of an office that's empty except for my presence, everyone else being in a meeting that does not include me. Watching the clock and searching the supply closets for inspiration. I found a mini Koosh ball. That was yesterday.
Also yesterday: after coming home late, happy for the glorious warmth, I went out to see Hawksley Workman with Carly and some of her friends. There was an extra ticket--yay! And so in the space of about ten minutes I transformed myself from work-clothes Karina to normal me, and rushed out and stayed up way too late for my own good and was thankful for it. Has anyone else seen this man in concert? Unbelievable. Totally, totally unbelievable. Now I know that I seem to fall in love with everyone I see perform live, and while there is some truth to this (what is it about live music that's so captivating?), I also admit that I don't discuss the live performances that I see and do not enjoy. Mainly because I tune them out and mentally go elsewhere for the duration. Also, I tend not to go see people that I don't want to listen to. Just common sense, that.
Most of his songs I know only through Carly playing her CD in the kitchen, but it was amazing nonetheless. The man can sing
, as well as play pretty much every instrument. Apparently he plays everything on his latest album; that just impresses the hell out of me. And then he did this thing with these giant sticks--like pool cues, only thicker and less tapered--slamming them on the stage and kicking and leaping ... Yeah. Incredible.
Now today I'm heading downtown to Bakka to hang out for Julie's signing, and chat with newsgroup people and see Sarah's hair (woo!). In a sense I feel a bit odd, going down to a signing when I know damn well that I can't afford the book as it's in hardcover, no matter how much I'd like to buy it. And yet ... and yet. I'm going. And it will be fun and there will be excellent snacks, and I will only feel a very tiny, tiny bit guilty.