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August 31 1998, Monday


im and I found ourselves doing hanky-panky to a live version of Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me" on WRIF, Detroit's RIF-rock 101.


n the afternoon, Matt Rogers came over here to Spunky Lisa's house where Kim and I are now staying. He brought a bottle of Eastern European red wine, and we all sat around on the porch drinking it, talking and being conceptual. Eventually Lisa and Josh came home. Broken hearts seem to be on the mend, and all five of us got along fairly well together.


other and Chuck invited Kim and me out to dinner tonight at the Mediterrano, a classy restaurant in the southern industrial park district of town. Kim and I arrived first and were placed in the "casual section" of course; even if Kim was looking rather glamourous, I was dressed in my ratty old combat boots and new 313 Records tee shirt (a gift from Josh).

I don't consider myself qualified to judge these things, but the food was excellent. The cooks obviously have a sense of flavour, borrowing from the good sense of all the various Mediterranean culinary genres. It occurred to me that there are only three important centers of cuisine in the world: China, India and the Mediterranean. But that's really kind of simplistic, huh? How about Mexico, Ethiopia, Poland and Thailand?

We all sampled each others' food, and there was fish, lamb, and glorious ravioli stuffed with greenish-grey god-knows-what. Casey the micro-terrier was there the whole time, keeping quiet in her bag and waiting for the treat that Mother always reserves for her.

I was kind of drunk from Matt Roger's vino and vodkatea, so I was tossing out humour unreservedly. I told the amusing story of how my eccentric father camps out beside his corn every summer to keep the raccoons away. And then Kim and I began riffing on the theme of Matt Rogers being our son. "At 32, it's probably time for him to go out into the world. We raised him right, and we're very proud of him, but we'd like him to find a good job and a nice woman and settle down."


fter dinner, we all went out to Kim's old apartment, 911 Wall Street, for a scheduled meeting with the landlord. While Kim and Chuck dealt with that, I walked Sophie with Mother and her precious Casey (which really does look like a massive caterpillar scurrying through the grass when it's set free to "go big-potty"). Mother is fine in small doses.


he landlord returned Kim's entire security deposit and she and I headed back to Spunky Lisa's. According to Kim, Lisa and Josh were upstairs making lots and lots of interesting noises. I didn't notice; I was downstairs on the computes.

It was a quiet evening of vino and chit chat. At one point Lisa said something rather funny, "If I were wearing pants, there'd be a party in them." Of course, you'll have to forgive me for presenting that quote completely out of its appropriate context. And Josh has a stock joke that can be said about anyone. "Henry Kissinger? He got started singing and playing guitar. And Joseph Stalin, he got started singing and playing guitar. Oh yeah, and Carol Burnette? She got started singing and playing guitar."

We all pitched in and brought up a mattress from the basement so Kim and I could sleep more comfortably tonight.

one year ago
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