Mr. Smith Goes To Richmond

Yesterday morning I was up early and out of the house, tossing Lisa into the car seat next to me as we spun off together into nearby Great Bridge before I took her to the airport. Lara and Lois had already left on an earlier flight, but Lisa was determined to revisit the town and the neighborhood where we spend all those summers with her grandparents as a little girl. Her voice a low whisper and her hands shaking every time she snapped a photo of her Nana's old house next door to my own childhood home, seeing it again after 20 years, all she could repeat over and over was how tiny everything looked, compared to the world of giants she remembered as a 13 year old. We stopped in to visit my parents and see my old bedroom where we used to play is now my parents' office and computer room, and took to her to the red shed in my backyard that used to be our clubhouse. I cleared away the spider webs with a stick so that she could go in and take pictures of all of our names written on the shelves, where "The Five Foxes" held their meetings, read comic books, swooned over boys, and wrote "Go-Go's Rule" all over the walls (Whattaya want, it was 1982!). Also made a stop at the graveyard for Lisa to snap pics of her grandparents' final resting place. On the way to the airport we stopped at Hardee's because, not having Hardee's or Carl's Jr in Boston she was dying for a roast beef sandwich just like the ones we used to eat there as a kid, but were both stunned to discover that Hardee's doesn't make roast beef sandwiches anymore. And I didn't know that either since I haven't eaten at Hardee's, or hardly any other fast food place, in years. Anyway, Lisa plans on sending some of the pictures to me soon so I'll try and post some as they come along, although I suppose I'll get my jollies out of it more than anyone else, expectedly.

The start to Richmond was a little late going, but Joe and I got there and found the Firehouse Theater Project with a minimum of fuss. The show wasn't until 7pm so we called Leslie and went by her place to catch up and hang. Les, whom I have also not seen in a number of years, had been sick with that stomach virus that everyone seems to be gestating lately but was feeling better that day, and her housecleaning business that she started up about two years ago is really on fire right now, which I'm delighted to hear. Over a leisurely dinner at Mekong (this terrific Vietnamese restaurant near Leslie's house where we ate last time we visited) we were so caught up in the act of catching up that we neglected to remember the time and almost two hours had passed since Jandek had hit the stage. So after dropping off Leslie we tore down Broad Street and got to the show... just in time to hear the last two or three songs from Jandek's set. Armed with a drummer, bassist plus sax, Sterling & Co. whipped up tempest of skronky free jazz that reminded me more of Peter Brötzmann than anything I had ever heard off of Telegraph Melts. But you kids know how much I loves me the Brötzmann anyway. On a set designed to resemble a spare living room, like a photo from one of his album covers, Jandek in black shirt, slacks and hat played mostly with his back turned to the 200 or so people seated in the audience except for the occasional spinning around to press his lips to the microphone and spouted strange words and ghostly groans. In fact something about his presence made him appear as if he were not really there at all, as if maybe he were being projected from a hologram machine from off in a corner. He really gives off an unreal inhabitance. And maybe that's just the aura of his mythological legend that colors my perception. I'm a cryptozoologist by nature, and seeing Jandek in the flesh makes me shiver in that way that I probably would just catching a glimpse of a Tasmanian tiger out of the corner of my eye.

After the show I had the pleasue of meeting the Jandek fan extraordinaire friend I made at myspace who first told me about the show. Even more charming and handsome in person, we had the chance to chat briefly before Joe and I had to hit the I-64 home so Joe could get up early for work the next day. But to be honest I was exhausted. Emotionally, maybe, more than physically. Surreal, to be sure. I spent the morning standing over Mrs. McGee's grave, reflecting on the unusual woman who helped shape my young life, and the granddaughter who helped create some of the strongest memories from my childhood. Then dinner with one of my best friends from college, reconnecting after several years of losing one another. And then seeing Jandek, which surrealness factor right there pretty much goes unspoken. So now I think I'm ready to go for a walk. And think about things. And ponder how I'm going to get to Vegas next month for S.'s internet wedding.

And listen to Telegraph Melts.