I hate those mornings when you awake from a particularly disturbing dream. The dream may not even be memorable, but the emotional fallout stays with you for the rest of the day. The aspect of the dream that brought this on could be very simple: losing my son in the mall, or having a particularly bad argument with an ex of mine. Dream reconstructions that may not even be based on an actual event, but some distorted version of your actual memories. The reality of the dream doesn't seem to matter though. So I'm dealing with one of those mornings today. I don't remember the details of the dream, but to add discomfort to an already uneven awakening, my ex-wife called me shortly afterward with some question about refinancing the house, in order to take my name off the deed. It was like bitter frosting on an already sour cake.
Speaking of Cake: I attended the KNDD's Deck the Hall Ball last night with my 17-year-old stepson (is "stepson" the correct nomenclature?) There was a six-band lineup, which means that the couple of bands were less than stellar. In fact the first "band," Sleigh Bells, was downright awful. They were composed of two members: a screaming banshee, and a punk-like dude on electric guitar, who kept running in front of his precious Marshall Amps, and playing with buttons on his computer. I kept thinking of the morality tale The Emperor Has No Clothes. Here we were being told that this "band" was the next great thing. They will blow you away. Instead I think that Sleigh Bells actually sucked, yet we were being cajoled into thinking greatness. I wasn't falling for it.
Cake was the third band of the night. I had been wanting to catch Cake live for many years, but this was probably not the event for that moment. They only played for about a half hour, and seemed less than tight. Maybe it was the fact that they flew from the east coast that morning.
The highlight of the night was The Black Keys without a doubt. They were the next to last band, and I think most folks left just after their set, not waiting around for Broken Bells.
I could expound more on last night's show, but I'm quite hungry and I hear a certain bagel shop calling. First I need to drip some gasoline into the tank on my car, and stop by the Jalisco Mexican Restaurant, and pay them ten dollars from yesterday's lunch. I had the cash, but they were short on change. I'm leaving a little early, but I'll have time to do some reading before reporting for duty at the bookstore.