And there's really not a lot of options open
For another kind of aftermath you're hopin'
That's there's something else that you can do to
Make it come true
Make it perfect
Make it OK
I'm really looking forward to hearing Michael Penn perform at the Birchmere on Tuesday. He will always be one of my very favorite musicians. Something about his words and music will always grab me, make me a little wistful, make me laugh, make me smile. The more I listen to his newest CD, Mr. Hollywood Jr. 1947, the more I like it. The lyrics above are from a song called "OK." It's a sad, but sweet song. If you lived in a movie, it's the song you'd want to dance to at the wedding of your unrequited love and his best girl. You know the routine - the cliche chick flick scene, when the groom comes up and asks the unchosen girl to dance, and she knows that this is the end of the road for that impossible dream of love and she has to bravely be happy for his happiness and leave the reception, chin up, ready to really start her life. Yeah. That kind of song. Full of lovely melancholy. For me, it speaks to the (maybe) end of my time here in DC.
And the song makes me cry. Yeah, I'm a girl. A big, wussy "hit the right chords in the right keys and I'll start to well up with big ol' tears" kind of girl. Ain't nothin' wrong with that, I reckon. No sirree, bub.
Going to Tuesday's gig may, indeed, be my last hurrah in Washington. If it is the end of my big(ish) city life, it will be a good way to sign off. Excellent music in the company of kind and good friends.
Really not a lot of options open...
And, again, to the L.A. contingent - if you haven't heard Michael Penn play at Largo, why not? Go forth and listen. You will dig his stuff. I promise. I may be a odd cookie, but I'm an odd cookie with a good ear for excellent tuneage.
It's raining here. Heavy, heavy rain after weeks of drought. I think I'm going to go tune into NPR, listen to some quiet voices, do the dishes, and wait for the power to flicker and fade.
This girl knows how to party on a Friday night, eh?