Thursday, July 13, 2006

Throwing a shrimp

Who uses it: Hipsters and foot fetishists
What it means: Having a little toe hanging out of the front part of a sandal, because the sandal fits poorly.
How you can use it: To tell someone to put a sock on that thing.

Got up at 3:00 a.m. yesterday to catch a bus from Portland to Boston, and from there the train to New York City. Despite the early hour, that's the way to go; I read two books on the train and got a short nap in, as well.

I wore sneakers to travel in, thinking I'd change to my more fashionable black sandals when I got to the city. Unfortunately, just as I started walking to my lunch appointment (with the always-enlightening Sarah Weinman), it started to rain, and few things are grosser than clammy sandals. So I kept the sneakers on all day, which I admit was not very fashionable of me.

It poured rain later on, and I got soaked on my way to drinks and dinner (with MWA Executive Vice President Reed Farrel Coleman, award-winning author of The James Deans). I might as well have taken a shower with my clothes on; Reed, who thinks of me as a frizzy-haired blonde, almost didn't recognize me because my hair was dark with water and flattened to my skull. Attractive. At least my Invisible Pedestrian outfit (black t-shirt, black jeans) looked just as dark, wet or dry.

Today I'm off to Western Connecticut, for a few days with Susan Kinsolving. Since I didn't post these yesterday, here are the first five random songs off my iPod Shuffle this morning:

"America Is," the Violent Femmes. Seeing Gordon Gano in concert convinced me that short men can be just as attractive as tall ones. I'm so glad these guys are still performing.

"Luka," Suzanne Vega. An intensely pretty song about child abuse, and I can never listen to it without thinking of the high school parody I heard when it came out: "My name is Puke-a, I live on the bathroom floor..." One of these days I really ought to grow up.

"Bizarre Love Triangle," New Order. I defy anyone to listen to this song without feeling an immediate shot of romantic optimism.

"God Knows (You Gotta Give to Get)," El Perro del Mar. One of the best things I got for Christmas last year was a subscription to The Believer magazine. The June issue came with a CD of cutting-edge music, including this song, which I like a lot -- lush, strings-laden pop. I need to find these guys' CD.

"Talkin' Bout a Revolution," Tracy Chapman. Some records are like time travel; this album (Tracy Chapman), and this song in particular, catapults me back to the fall of 1988, a time of tremendous upheaval in my own life.

1 comment:

JIM LAMB said...

I guess you are turning into the little old ladies in tennis shoes like the ones I used to work with in the Pentagon. There surely were a lot of them.

But don't let them fool you. They are the ones who really run the U. S., not all those pompous fools you see on TV.