Christ has "Risen." Holla.

Friday, I did the math and realized that, during the week, I had spent as much time shooting and editing pictures as I do at my full time job (37 hours.) This both intrigued, excited and scared the shit out of me (good thing because I ate Taco Bell at 3am on Friday...my intestines, like Jesus when he saw those nails coming his way, were not pleased.) I love this. I don't want to get burnt out on it. And I needed to just be present in a world I constantly try to capture through obsessive thoughts, words or pictures. So I challenged myself to not take photos. I made it most of the night, soaking in the magic of the never ending Hoot, and only cheating a bit at the end.



Because I couldn't stop wondering how the fuck did I get here? I sat in the middle of Jim's floor, against Anna's leg, staring up at the giant newspaper article he did about Bruce, SIGNED by Bruce, trying to stop Zero the dog from eating my face/making out with me.



I listened to the musicians play round robin with their voices and instruments.



They poured their heart into a living room full of fifteen or so people.



Jim actuall sang "Alexa smiles like the sun." Which was true.



I left, sober cabbing it to Big V's and standing in the midst of rock 'n' roll devil horns and screaming guitar licks. It was culture shock after the six hour soulful singer/songwriter fest.





So I grabbed the lack of poop-licious Taco Bell with Jessica, drove her home to Uptown, and sat on her couch to watch an episode of Top Design. Got I love Chalupas. God I love reality television. God I love looking across a room to realize I am not alone as the Stook! song he dedicated to (almost Chicago bound) Andrea breaks my heart.

Saturday, I worked late, dreamt about that burly biker dude with the leather jacket and big moustache who walks down Lyndale with a wiener dog wearing a skirt (two of my friends have called with sightings of my dream man...I have yet to witness him in the flesh...though my hand has), and watched six episodes of Weeds (my new favorite show.)

I got drunk in the afternoon off of three very delicious, very fruity and very strong mimosas from brunch at Genna's house. Praise Jesus. I proceeded to nap on my couch for three hours and woke up with my Easter dress up around my waste and a monster headache. God bless the 6:30pm hangover. Three tylenol and a handful of almonds later, I am cured.

My heart is a little broken right now. Jason Isbell is leaving my beloved Drive-By Truckers. Not only did he write two of my favorite DBT songs/favorite songs of all time, Outfit & Decoration Day, he is some serious Southern eye candy. Poo. His solo work, while I am absolutely thrilled about, has some very big shoes to fill.

I've decided that the horrifically insipid acronym W.W.J.D ACTUALLY stands for "What Would Jonesie Do?" Balls out, Jonesie likes to rock n roll with potato sacks under her eyes and a caffeine headache the size of your daddy's wang.

Monday: work then Son Volt at First Ave
Tuesday: work then American Idol
Wednesday: work then Voltage: Fashion Amplified at First Ave
Thursday: sleep/laundry/haircut then Leslie & the LY's at First Ave's 7th St Entry
Friday: work then Hoot
Saturday: work then Low at First Ave (maybe...if I can switch my schedule so I don't close)
Sunday: work then rehearsal

I need to know the Bionic Man's secret. Luckily, I don't feel like Uncle Floyd's burning asshole like the last time my schedule was this insane. My (almost always) healthy diet allows me to push myself to the limits...much like marathon man...except without the toned muscles and ability to move my legs back and forth in what some might call "a run."

I will leave you with this glorious, awe inspired, party caught on film:



This is from the April 5th Bruce Springsteen Tribute at Carnegie Hall. Bruce invites Craig Finn of Hold Steady to sing first. I'd like to think this is one of the top five experiences of Craig's life. I love the shit eating grin and his spastic dancing. One cannot deny the fact that he absolutely loves sharing that stage with Bruce Springsteen. Look at his wacky gestures! Look at that face! It reminds me so much of when Bruce was jamming with Bob Dylan at Shea Stadium. Craig Finn's joy is palpable (my new favorite word.) We all have our idols.

Plus I love seeing my Marah boys (especially Kirk...who is a dwarf apparently...and Adam...who still manages to look really cool though he is moving like a Suburban mom in complete elation) up there clapping and dancing.

Though I'm coming to terms with the fact that I cannot please everyone and be everywhere all at once, I should have been there. I should have been at Carnegie Hall.

Life According to Bruce: Yay for the loud, crowded party!