It’s been a wonderful weekend. Last night I had the pleasure of seeing Beirut at the Wiltern, and it was absolutely amazing. They were charming as hell, and their performance was nothing short of epic. The best way I can describe it: imagine if a group of kids from the high school band walked out on stage, and then proceeded to blow a sold-out crowd away. Zach Condon’s voice is simply one of the best out there. It was one of those shows that reminds you why it’s good to be alive–touching, energetic, and unpretentious. Not to mention the sheer volume of instruments on stage, and damn, those kids can play. Simply beautiful. If you haven’t gotten a chance to check them out, I’d suggest getting a copy of Gulag Orkestar–I think it’s their best. Also, they’ve got mp3’s on their website, http://www.beirutband.com. In the top left corner, there’s a little player you can use to go from song to song.
Other highlights of the show included a girl who was ejected by security for attempting to get crunk/”belly dance” in the aisle, and Zach’s comment that on Friday night he’d had a real LA night, having woken up in a hotel room covered in blood that morning.
Today, Sunday, I went over to the LA Poets and Writers Collective reading at Beyond Baroque in Venice, hosted by Jack Grapes. Jack’s been doing these for a long time, and they’re always a lot of fun. Readers who go over the 2 minute time limit are subject to a fart machine, and if that doesn’t stop them, they’re squirted with water pistols. I actually got to be one of the enforcers today and squirt a few people, which was pretty great. Jack also surprised me by asking me to get up and read from the book, and we got a really positive response from the crowd. It was a fun afternoon, and I’m always touched by Jack’s generosity in mentoring and helping local writers and small presses. I began studying with him when I was 17, and I can’t say I’d be the writer or the person I am today had it not been for his encouragement and guidance.
The best part of the whole weekend, though, had to be when a woman at the reading came up to me after I’d read my piece and asked me, “Were you a crackhead?”
