Back from the beach… More on that later. Now I’m back in D.C., back at work. Monday and Tuesday were stressful, angsty and frustrating in a lot of ways. (Compounded by the fact that I’d just spent a super-relaxing week at the beach with Patrick.) Luckily, Tuesday night I went to a concert/reading that felt like a fresh coat of whitewash on the inside of my spine. I really can’t describe it. Maybe like if I were a car, the concert was a vacuuming of the interior with a good, strong car vac….. The reading was by Davy Rothbart, the guy behind Found magazine, that publishes stuff found all over the country. He read some of them. Many were to-do lists, or notes to roommates or crushes, but that’s a lot of raw material, unrefined human emotion and communication, so funny and stupid and impossible but real. Scraps of paper stuck to car windshields, fliers taped on doors and telephone polls, notes crumpled in the grass or the parking lot or dangling from the string of a deflated helium balloon stuck in a cemetary tree. Some of the stuff published in the magazine is on the web site.

The music was by Devon Sproule and Paul Curreri. Paul is my friend Maria’s brother, and Devon is his girlfriend. Devon and Paul are pretty much the cutest couple I’ve ever seen. Devon played a few songs, and then Paul joined her for a few. (I ended up buying both Paul’s CD and Devon’s CD.)

Sometimes it’s good to get out of the house.

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