On MLK Day, I went to a different liquor store than usual. At least I wasn't strutting around with a rifle in Richmond, Virginia.
The liquor store had been recommended by a friend who said they had good prices, and I was greeted at the door by the advertising sign shown. My brand! On the way home, traffic on I-35W was backed up for around a half mile as cars queued up for my exit—46th Street—but that was fine, I wasn't in a hurry, and also I was aimed right at downtown Minneapolis, where the setting sun was glimmering on the tall glassy buildings. I don't have a picture of that but couldn't have done it justice anyway. I was listening to a CD of songs recorded live at First Avenue—Patti Smith ("Redondo Beach"), then the Replacements ("Love You Till Friday"), then skipping ahead to Hüsker Dü ("Books About UFOs"). In a kind of free-associating reverie, I recalled how in Trouble Boys author Bob Mehr relates how the Replacements were once playing in front of Patti Smith, who got pissed when they didn't leave the stage on time; Paul Westerberg told her to "f*** off, go write a few more haikus or something." (I put it in quotes though I don't own the book and am going from memory.) Then I thought about how earlier in the day, pedaling my exercise bike, I'd heard my new favorite country-western lyric of all time while listening to Nikki Lane Radio on Pandora—Loretta Lynn singing, in "Mrs Leroy Brown":
I've been in and out
Of every honky tonk in town
And I'm almost drunk from the drinks
That I've turned down.
At home, I put a tray of Stauffer's frozen lasagna in the oven before going out to neaten up my shoveling from yesterday, an exercise that had the effect of sharpening my appetite. After I'd eaten, I washed the dishes and settled into my tv viewing chair with a little glass of product of Canada and watched as the Timberwolves lost another one.
Probably not enough to arouse anyone's envy, you're welcome, and anyway it's all I got, maybe around the 994th best day of my life.
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