Country / Dream / Mom.

On Saturday I went to a country music concert with some friends at a bar downtown. The intro band was pretty good, which got me psyched for the main act, but the main act sucked it up majorly, so that blew hard. The band was from Texas, too, and took shots between most songs, so at the end of their two hour set they were pretty fucked up and band security was dragging out a lot of drunk people who had been taking shots with them from the audience all night, and I just thought the whole thing was stupid, the even more so when my friend who had spread the word about the band said it was very Texas (she's from Texas).

After the concert was slightly better. We were waiting for our car - though it was a country bar and music venue, it had valet parking - and there was a massive delay, so we got to watch blacks and latinos in funked-up cars cruise by the hip-hop club across the street. There was this one Latino thug guy with shaved head and two big diamond earrings who went by in a powder blue 50s type car that was jacked up on high tires with chrome rims and a lot of space between struts so that the tire was almost see-through, and he had a small Puerto Rican flag with gold fringes dangling from his rearview mirror.

"Look at that flag," I said to my friend from Texas, nudging her and pointing.

"Oh my god," she was like, and started laughing loudly.

Then the car passed by, and I nudged her again and was like, "Fuck, look at that license plate," and she turned and looked and saw the Puerto Rican dude's customized plate --

ICU HATIN

-- for a Puerto Rican, he definitely knew enough to teach us one.

Last night I dreamed that I was in my bathroom in the relatively early morning, naked since I had just woken up, and it was all bright because of my clear shower curtains, and I heard murmuring voices from the hallway and peaked out the door, and I saw a pair of slippers that weren't mine placed neatly in the hallway just beyond my inner doormat, and knew that my Croatian landlord had just slipped in to fix something there and that luckily she was out of sight and couldn't see me, so I called to her that everything was fine, and closed the door to the bathroom so she wouldn't see me without my clothes on.

Last night I was bitching about a senior professor with incipient dementia to my mother - the dementia brings out his bad character traits and make him a deal to handle, and I felt I was channeling my mother by having a "fuck you and your idiosyncracies" moment -- when my mom started telling me that one lady at work talks too much and she's older, so my mom has started avoiding her, only now the woman grabs her hand or her library pushcart and holds my mom there to keep her there while she talks with her.

"Yeah, but this is worse," I was like.

"Have some sympathy," my mom was like, "You don't know what it's like to get older. You don't know how many times this week I've called [my brother's dog, which my parents are temporarily taking care of] '[my name]'."

Then I told my mom that she had mellowed, and she agreed that she had, and reminded me that she had told everyone that when she turned 60 she was going to stop giving a fuck. "And I haven't," she was like.