DANCE!

As our Thursdays with the TSB at the Music Cafe become fewer, I find that I'm sitting at the rail and soaking in as much as I can. Last night, for example, the dancers were just spectacular. My personal favorite being a woman who wore a black button down shirt, big square diamonds in her ears, and a pair of sweatpants that said DANCE! down the leg in wacky font -- complete with exclamation point. And dance!, friends, she did. In promenading circles.

During the first set, the band had a substitute drummer, as it seems that Ryan was at home being a "daddy" (is it true?!). I said the drummer looked like Neil Diamond, and Donna agreed. He was good, but as he played, he concentrated really hard. It was more like he was concentrating with his tongue, which stayed stiff in his open mouth. But his eyes glazed over like he might be catatonic. And, well, with that look: he looked like a zombie. He was zombie Neil Diamond. But, I mean -- fresh zombie Neil Diamond. Freshly bitten. The Zombie isn't physically showing, just in his brains.


Nrrraaaaaaagh! Kentucky Woman! Nraaaaaaaghhhh...Shilo...