NP: Muse, Absolution (CD)

You may be wondering where I've been all week. The easy answer is "many places that are not in the home office." Since taking on the part-time job, I've gone from having mostly nowhere to go on a daily basis until around 7pm or so, to having to run all over Chicago keeping appointments.

Don't believe me? Let me give you the rapid rundown of the last five or six days.

Monday. Monday was the only bona fide slow day, with l.i.t.c. going out in the morning before getting out to the Sandwich Music King gig. After that, I vaguely remember watching The Sopranos on tape, and that's pretty much it.

Tuesday. Job interview downtown, then up to Evanston for the part-time gig, then Vaughan's. With enough time in between those last two for grocery shopping, the last entry to the site, a quick run to Kinko's to make flyers for Friday's gig, and a glass and a half of sangria at Coobah after trying to track Jayh down to get my P.A. back only to find Anto there. Vaughan's is hopping early, but peters out a bit. Ally and Allison inject some fresh vitality into the proceedings. Eamon explains in great detail why he probably isn't going to pay me.

Wednesday. Sandwich Music King gig, followed by some errands that included spending more than $25 at Bed Bath & Beyond in River North, which, for one week only, got me a free burrito at the Chipotle next door. Except that I already had my comp sandwich as part of the aforementioned SMK stint, and was planning on hitting the press box at Soldier Field for dinner. So I got it to go, threw it in the fridge, and tried to watch the Chelsea-Arsenal Champions League match I had taped that afternoon. Whoops, not enough time, so it's off to the Fire match in the CONCACAF version of the same tourney. Bumped into US coach Bruce Arena at the press gate, where I picked up my radio credential. Still no word whether or not I'll actually be on the radio, but apparently my billboard should be up April 1. Field conditions are terrible, the Fire is in a three-goal hole after the first leg, but one red card and two goals from Dipsy Selolwane (double dip!) later, we're through and I get some vague updates on the broadcasting situation from the GM. Once back in the 'hood, I wait around at Wild Goose until the booking guy pops his head out of the office, and pitch him the acoustic show with Geno and his friend. I consider that I'm booking a show, sort of, for a guy who has sold more than a million records. This amuses me to no end. Not as much as the billboard, but that's okay.

Thursday. Out of the house early to record at 10am, wait, make that 11am, out at Tony's place. Three tunes for Kelly Steward, and even with the slight delay, we're out in time for me to make it to Evanston and stop at the pizza place conventiently located halfway between the nearest free parking and the office. Chat with Abi as I'm in the car about future gigs. Stop at the bank on the way home, but still make it in time for The Daily Show, since I had to pop the tape so I wouldn't tape over that Chelsea-Arsenal match. Jon Stewart was, to say the least, blown away by Richard Clarke's testimony. Chipotle burritos keep well enough in the fridge. Phineas comes over to watch the tape. I see my roommate for the first time in several days. Jayh drops off the P.A., and we need to get the old band together and share some drinks.

Friday. Haircut at 10am, as I'm looking maybe a bit too much like Wolverine. Then the inevitable stop at Best Buy, but I've needed new headphones for a long while, and half the CDs are legitimately for research. Old Navy. A pair of jeans that are too long and a pair of shirts that will be too small once I wash them, but I don't know it yet. I kvetch a bit about the massive burst of spending, but I was going to spend the money on this stuff anyway, so the timing of it can't be a big issue. Hit up Jewel on the way for lunch, 'cause I've had way too much pizza so far this week. Then back home, with just enough time to load up the drums and get them to Vaughan's and set up before we have to leave for the first living room gig I've been even peripherally involved with since the big Lollapalivingroom parties in college. Two hours at the party, then back to Vaughan's. Looks problematic, as everyone seems to be elsewhere watching Duke-Illinois. We rock anyway, and the crowd eventually shows up. Early in the second set, I think I'm responsible for about half the room, which is encouraging. Partygoers crash Vaughan's, stifling any criticisms of taking the second show (double dip!), drums are packed up, pizza is had, drums are unloaded. Coz goes to sleep.

So now I'm two full CDs past what I was listening to when I started writing this, I've got two dozen news-related e-mails to fight through, and then unspecified plans for the evening now that option #1, perhaps a bit too hopeful in the first place, has died a horrible death following a slight interruption in the writing of this entry.