Play in the sunshine.

Last night's dream.

Last night featured a dream whereupon I delivered luggage and room service to both Slash of Guns N Roses and Terrell Owens of the Dallas Cowboys. As none of the luggage was tagged with identification and I don't know the first thing about room service, it took me a long time - hours - to figure out what belonged where. Needless to say, I received no tip.

A birthday banquet was also taking place for my young niece and I was just too busy to stop in and say hi. Sounds about right. ;)

A post not about Peter Himmelman. It's about a former member of his band.

A nice memory from the Peter Himmelman's '94 show at Nashville's Ace of Clubs was a brief conversation I had with backup singer Kristin Mooney afterwards. She was very nice to me and I enjoyed our chat about Peter's profound and beautiful lyrics. Kristin's voice is absolutely lovely.

Have a listen to her own music here. I hate playing the "sounds like" game, as it never seems like a fully fair description of an artist and his or her work, but it is the quickest and easiest way to give the curious an idea of someone's sound. So...when listening to Kristin Mooney, other artists that are brought to mind include Aimee Mann, Sarah McLachlan, Sam Phillips and maybe Patty Scialfa.

I love what I'm hearing.

Bob Dylan, Peter Himmelman, and Harry Dean Stanton perform "Hava Nagila"

While perusing Himmelman videos on YouTube, I thought I saw myself in a live concert crowd shot. Alas, it wasn't me. Moving on.

Anyway, here's Peter with his father-in-law, Bob Dylan, and Harry Dean Stanton playing that Hebrew folk song that absolutely everybody knows.

The Pigeons Couldn't Sleep

Up since six o'clock, in at ten, and clocked out eleven hours later, I came home looking forward to some quality rest and relaxation before the following day's shift only to find that the sweet-hearted two-year-old is running a fever and will have to stay home from daycare tomorrow. There goes sleeping in. Again.

Currently, she is wide awake and comically chatty. I've got Himmelman's latest (The Pigeons Couldn't Sleep) playing and hopeful dreams of sleeping in on Wednesday instead of tomorrow on my mind. I'll be up early with my daughter tomorrow and if my wife can come home from her work early, I won't have to go to my work late. Otherwise, I'll be calling my boss and hoping he understands. How most working parents make it, I don't have a clue.

It's now midnight and her big brother just wandered into the room. Apparently, this is the house where no one sleeps. Despite the stress of losing sleep and work hours, I feel incredible peace right this minute. Peter Himmelman sings "Gratitude" and I know that I'm a rich man.

I'm glad that I can see
The brown eyes of my daughters
The moon on silent waters
Your forming silhouette moving across the room.

My own Chatty Cathy on the couch continues to tell me what she knows is true as I pray that she'll talk herself to sleep. I've got a print of that famous Doisneau photograph on one wall and a poster of the Eiffel Tower with fireworks behind it on another. It's so cute to hear my little girl describe them to me. I've finally gotten Joshua back to bed, but Ari is still giggly and chipper as she tells me that she likes to "eat good food so that I will grow." She adds that she likes ice cream. One of the good foods, I think she means.

I'm going to sleep next to my daughter tonight, assuming she's planning on falling asleep sometime soon.

Himmelman sings simply and perfectly in "Save A Little Honey":

Save your speeches for someone who cares
Save your teardrops to soften up your prayers
Save your dignity for God above
Save a little honey for the one you love.

I'll dance to that.

Read this excerpt from a story on Marketplace (audio in the link) about a nightclub in Rotterdam that is taking global warming concerns seriously.

Mike: We've called it "harvest your energy." With the electricity-generating dancefloor, we're trying to use that power that you've got to power the lights.

Rico: I guess my question is: If you've got a club that's even partially powered by dancers, what happens if the DJ really sucks, and nobody wants to dance?

Mike: (laughs) Yeah, that's a lost night; you should go home.

Meanwhile, back at Worm, a band called Pourquoi Me Reveiller rocks a crowd of 100 people. Some might not know or care the club's walls are made of recycled real estate signs. But Mike van Gaasbeek, chef de ping-ping, doesn't mind. The only thing that bugs him is calling the signs "recycled."

van Gaasbeek: It's actually "upcycled" because it's having a better life. It was in a dull office building, and now it's in a cool club.

Waiting my turn for the computer.

Eventually, I'll get out and see a show.

Ahhhh, Burlesque!...

Hellfire Horseshoe Revue, as photographed by Joshua Wilkins.

And Panty Raid! Dames, same fantastic photographer.

What I'm reading...

(as photographed by the four-year-old)

She can do it herself. She says so.

I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself.I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself. I do it myself.

I think they call this a roundup.

She loves her Dawgs and I love her. Give her a read and leave her a comment if you like.

One reason I love this online thing? I know this wonderful friend from Big Sky Country.

Stealing the best quote from a post I just read: "I just ordered two Newcastles and two juice boxes at the same bar. It was weird."

Wanna hear Mick Jones' latest project? Listen to this episode of the Pop Candy podcast. Some know him from The Clash. Some know him from Big Audio Dynamite. His latest band is called Carbon/Silicone.

On a personal note, I parked a lot of cars for free tonight at the hotel. People should really tip, but they rarely do. The last car was nice, though. U2's How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb played in the owner's CD player and I got to sit back and have a listen to "Crumbs from our Table." The song itself is about much larger issues than the life of this writer/bellboy, but its lyrics resonated nicely with me in regards to the lumps I so politely take most nights as I go about trying to provide for my family with equal parts smiles and subservience.

Thanks for reading. This blog is absolutely unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but I enjoy writing for it some nights as if it's everything I have to offer. So it's a nice way to close my nights.

Thanks again,

Mike

"Do you know Mark Twain?"

I clocked out and drove down the hill on my way home tonight, stopping in at the gas station on the corner to pick up a Coke and a lottery ticket. I placed my Coke onto the counter along with the latest issues of Nashville Scene and All The Rage that I had grabbed on the way in. As he was ringing up my purchase, the young immigrant clerk asked me a question. It wasn't all too weird of a question, but something about it took me by surprise.

"Do you know Mark Twain?" he asked.

Maybe it was the phrasing of it that forced my brain to take the extra seconds to analyze it. Not, 'Do you know of Mark Twain?' but 'Do you know Mark Twain?' - as if this Mark Twain is a guy who works with me, a dishwasher or a busboy at the hotel. I'm also not used to too much talking at the convenience store. I'm a regular and he and I have exchanged pleasantries before. Some nights he asks me how my night's going, sometimes I remark on the song playing on his radio, but that's about the extent of our conversations. We're friendly but busy.

"The writer?" I finally responded.

"Yes," he replied. "He said something about kindness."

I love this guy. My day had been long, hard and I'd made hardly any money to show for it. I'd stopped in to buy two things I really didn't need but now I was enjoying a role in an unexpectedly intriguing exchange.

"I like what Mark Twain said about kindness. I think he said, 'The language of kindness is one that the deaf can hear and the blind can see.' Something like that. He wrote The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, right?"

"Yeah," I answered. "Great book. I hadn't heard that quote before. I like that. Thanks for sharing that with me."

We smiled and I noticed that another customer had walked up in line and was ready to checkout. With a wave and a friendly goodbye, I made my way out to my Honda to continue my trip home. The workday had pretty much been a bust, but I was thankful to have shared a small moment with my friend at the gas station.

On Peter Himmelman

Some artists are just so talented that it is always a source of frustration for their fans that they are not more well-known for their work. One such artist is singer-songwriter Peter Himmelman. I was lucky to see him the one and only time that he performed in Nashville (that I know of) and I still remember that as the best concert I've ever attended. (And I've seen both Bruce Springsteen and Tom Waits!) I have no doubt that everyone who was in attendance still remembers that night as one of the more magical of shows. Sadly, his show at the Ace of Clubs was poorly attended, and I must admit that my ticket was a comp from the opening act's record company.

That concert dates back to 1994 and I only recently discarded the shirt that my friend, the club manager, later gave me. Oft-worn, so many girlfriends have wanted me to throw it away over the years, but I always resisted. That shirt, ultimately sleeveless, with ever-growing rips and tears, and survivor of who knows how many washings finally got to the point where even I couldn't justify wearing it around the house. I mourn its passing. And I search the internet for a replacement.

Anyway, Peter Himmelman continues to impress me with his thoughtful lyrics and profound observations. I just wish his talent could be appreciated on a larger scale. While he stays busy writing music for television shows and releasing a successful series of children's CDs, it's still his other more personal work that never fails to move me.

I typed his name into a news search engine tonight and learned through a touching piece by Willam Pesek that slain journalist Daniel Pearl was also a big fan of Himmelman and his work. I don't know why, but it's cool to me to think of Mr. Pearl listening to Skin or From Strength To Strength and closing his eyes while taking in the words and music just as I do. Or anxiously awaiting club doors to open while clutching a ticket in his hand just as I did that one awesome night in '94. It's not just that Daniel Pearl is a person of specific significance, but more that it's always nice to feel some connection with people who are moved by the same things.

If I could, I'd ask Mr. Pearl how he came to know Himmelman and his music. Did the opening track of Skin surprise him as much as it did me? Did Himmelman ever get a conga line going at any of the shows he caught as was the case at the one I attended?

Regardless, I'm glad to have come across such a nice mention of Peter Himmelman tonight. I'll reserve some time this evening to close my eyes and listen to his music. It's really fantastic stuff.

From William Pesek's article:

Danny and I met in the mid-1990s, when we worked in the same office. We weren't
the kind of friends who'd call one another at 4 a.m. amid a crisis; we were
buddies who would brainstorm on stories, swap bizarre travel tales and down a
few beers together here and there.
We first bonded over music -- a
Minneapolis musician named Peter Himmelman. We agreed he was greatest songwriter
virtually no one had heard of and we'd go to Himmelman's concerts together, once
making our way backstage to meet him. ... more>>

She's only two years old and she already has favorite Bon Jovi songs.

Rock God