Adult Contemporary

A part of me died about ten years back when I realized that the only Grammy-nominated songs/albums/performers that I'd even HEARD about were all in the "adult contemporary" category. This led to a lost weekend of going to (scary, scary) Goth clubs, a rave (boing boing boing boing), and even to a Barry Manilow concert ("tonight, at the Greek Theater, we're going to have an orgy . . . of MUSIC. . . . 'Time in New England, took me away. . . '"). I wasn't at all comforted to find that I enjoyed Barry most of all. Perhaps the blue eyeshadow?? No matter, I'm all comfortable with my category these days.

Went to see John Hiatt, Joe Eley, Lyle Lovett and Guy Someone Or Other on Friday night. Guy SOO sings story songs. Enough said. No, not quite: "Alice, the whore from DALLAS. . . ." Okay, NOW, enough said. Every one else was great, with Mr John Hiatt being the greatest of all. I think he's actually a genius, the things he can do to a guitar.

Just blew twelve dust-mice off my desk, so it's clearly time to stop rambling on about other people's gifts and try to develop a new one for myself: housekeeping.

Hey-- this is one of those blog entries that gives the entire genre a bad name. Middle-aged housewife complains about dust. Hopefully there will be something amazing on Oprah today to life it all out of the ordinary.