You know, I think this weekend is nature's way of saying, "Look, I beat you all down again and again and again this past winter, so here you go, a gorgeous sunny weekend that had been predicted to be a rainy and shitty". Well, thank you, nature!
I woke up yesterday, practiced some yoga, and then worked on music. And then it occurred to me: "Porchfest is today!". Porchfest is an awesome event in Somerville in which local musicians play music from their porches. I called Spira and told her to get her ass and Missy D over to my place toots sweet. And then, just as I was thinking about calling Foley, he texted me about Porchfest.
Foley arrived first and rolled a J in my living room while we waited for the ladies. When they arrived, we headed out and ended up having a great time. Way more music this year than last year. We couldn't believe how much activity there was! Just about every other house had music playing. And the streets were packed and everyone (well, not everyone, but I'll get to that in a minute) was smiling and enjoying themselves. Here and there, we met up with various friends and heard some great music. The lilacs and other flowers filled the air with their lush fragrances; ahhhhh....You know, it's great living in a city like this.
One street was particularly active. A short one, it had music coming from three houses. One porch had a dude playing covers on a theremin. Pretty neat. As we were coming onto the street, a guy listening to shitty euro-dance music in his car had the same idea. A ridiculous move to make, seeing how every square inch was carpeted with revelers. He didn't care and ended up angrily parking in front of someone's driveway. He stormed out of the car (by the way, he looked so out of place, like he just walked off the set of Jersey Shore) and barreled through the crowd, cursing and muttering. Turns out he lived in one of the houses. Guess he didn't get the memo about Porchfest.
About fifteen minutes later, we saw the bro again, this time driving his car up the other end of the road aggressively. So not only is he being a dick but now he's driving the wrong way up a one way street. As he passed by, he beeped his horn and yelled at various people. At one point he stopped and got out of his car. He threw his arms up in a challenging gesture and yelled, "Get the fuck out of here! This is my street!" It was such an odd, sad, and comical display. He's lucky he was among cheery people, because he was outnumbered about three hundred to one. Fucking dick.
We walked over to Foley's, met up with his girlfriend, and relaxed with some beers on his shady patio. Foley played some rare Nick Drake recordings from his window which really hit the spot. Princess Puppy Baby found a nice spot to relax in the dirt by some bushes and took a nap. A glorious afternoon.
After a spell, we parted ways. Spira and I had plans to see Godzilla in Boston. I had read a few positive reviews that said all the right things, so I was eager to see it. First, we had a quick salad for dinner at Spira's and then we got on the T. We forgot about the work they're doing at Government Center, so we had to switch trains, which consequently had us arriving at the theater later than we intended. Considering it was opening weekend for the movie, finding good seats was a concern.
It worked out. We found decent seats and, after sitting through about nine or ten fucking previews, almost all of which featured explosions, jump cut editing/shaky cam, explosions, shit exploding, devastation everywhere, explosions, people dying and screaming, explosions, shit flying everywhere, explosions, robots, aliens, doom doom doom doom, explosions, apocalyptic nightmares, explosions....
By the time the movie started, I felt spent and vaguely suicidal. Anyway, it was worth it. We saw it in 3D Imax, which cost twenty bucks and maybe not worth it on that count. I would have been happy watching it the old fashioned way. Whatever. It was a blast and a necessity to see on the big screen. They did it right. Godzilla looked badass, the fight scenes were epic but not over done, character development was as good as it needed to be, and the cinematography was really good. My problem with a lot of comic book movies is the endless, nonsensical fight scenes that go on and on and on to the point where you're just numbed to the action. Godzilla wasn't like that. Gareth Edwards was the right guy to direct this film. And watching it with Spira was a blast; she cracked me up with all the fun she was having.
Back at Spira's, we made hot dogs and watched Master Chef: Junior Edition. And then I went home and listened to Phillip Glass's opera, Einstein On The Beach, which had the effect of obliterating my mind with it's awesomeness. I stayed up late into the wee hours and woke up this morning around eleven. I haven't woken up this late in a while.
Good times this weekend.
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