EspressivoOn Thursday, I read Emily Wing Smith’s forthcoming debut novel, The Way He Lived. You know how in As Good As It Gets there’s that scene in which Helen Hunt is trying to get Jack Nicholson to pay her an actual compliment, and after several really lame attempts he finally says, “You make me want to be a better man”? Well, reading Emily’s book makes me want to be a better writer. I quickly got over my artistic jealousy and wrote a blurb, that you can see here. If you’re going to any of the big conferences coming up, look for an ARC and snap it up.

Grave

When I brought to the rummage sale the small box of records G. had pulled to donate, I found these:

Ack! Just give away my childhood, why don’t you! (He thought they were his. No excuse.) Fortunately, I snatched them from the hands of death just in time.

Allegro

The Dierks Bentley show was fun. Some of my fears did come to pass: a group of young people next to us basically binge-drank all night, and by the time the second warmup (Bucky Covington) was done, one guy had already puked at his feet, one seat away from me. (I know. Sorry.) Soon after Dierks started, another from the group couldn’t stand up and his friends were alternatively propping him up and trying to get him to stay seated. We moved to some empty seats nearby and then I flagged a security guy who was walking by and not long after that, the guys were removed.

I’m not trying to kill anyone’s fun or anything, but when your friends can’t control you and you’re puking and passing out while standing up and stillcontinuing to down the Buds, I did you a favor. Someday, your liver will thank me. Sensing the stadium full of drunk people was about to hit the roads and become drunk drivers, we left before the encore and got out of the lot and back home with no drama. Anyway, the concert itself was good. Someone named Lee Brice and his band opened, and even though at first I was kinda, hmm, and not crazy about the backward-baseball-cap look. A little 1997, right? – also, when you’re performing in a major tour you could look a little less like it’s the weekend to clear the gutters. I’m not saying you have to look like Rascal Flatts, but there’s got to be some happy medium between that and roadie. In the end, he and the band won us over. They were tight and had good energy. Then Bucky Covington was…so, so not my thing. The best number he did was a cover–CCR’s Fortunate Son. (Okay, I just wiki’d him, and he was totally on American Idol. Which is hysterical, because at some point during his performance, I looked at G. and said, “He’s very American Idol.” And it wasn’t a compliment.) When Dierks performed, you felt like he was all about you—one of those artists who is really good at making you think he’s looking right at you even when you are just one of 12,000 people. Bucky kind of performed like he was in front of a mirror. In summary, I’m glad I didn’t buy tickets, but I’m also glad I won some.

Capriccio

Monday is happy day because I get to write and lunch with my local writer friends. Hope you have a good day, too!