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After my first PSpree show, in November at The Birchmere in Virginia, band leader Tim’s niece, Natalie, told me about the Holiday Extravaganza. I called up my friend KTX from ATX, said “meet me in Dallas.”
My flight from DC took off 5 hours late. KTX met me at Love Field in Nemo, her Honda Element. He had a five o’clock shadow, a bad attitude and a broke-off rearview mirror.
We came, we saw, we found The Polyphonic Spree magic at The Majestic. I made a friend in the Bistro Bar line. My new friend, codenamed “K with a capital K, 5-going-on-6”, chucked a tanker-trailer of confetti snow on my head, battered me with red balloons, thought Gustafer was a cool visionary poet, smacked every dumb adult that tried to touch her Rudolph-painted nose, abracadabra’d the magician til he cried, popped 17 balloons right in my ear, pocketed Sharon’s accordion, shotgunned the hot chocolate brewer-thingy, stole my Moleskine ass-pocket-o-whiskey notebook & favorite red calligraphy pen — then she got serious. Later she got sad. But at least she’d learned where xmas tree decorations started, and her Mama was near.
She recruited Gustafer’s evil-twin & Vixen the real-actual-live-and-for-true ‘roid-raged reindeer bouncer I had met at The Majestic door. Those three hit the mosh pit. Vixen stage-dived a cloven hoof into my eye. Gustafer’s eel left a banana-peel slime-trail & stole my tube socks. That slime-trail flipped the entire orchestra-pit mob on their rumpsides. Tim’s Mom took notes, trusted in prudence. She gave K the evil eye. K started to cry.
Despite her marauding behavior though, I pointed to her / my new-to-her, lost-to-me notebook and told her brother “no matter her crimes and misdemeanors, you can’t be a dick on this one … that’s hers … protect that.” I looked at K and C’s mother. She hadn’t dagger-eye’d me.
I have 2 good-for-nuthin’ Brooklyn nephews, Los Hombres Malos, Dylan & Daniel, 8 & 10. For the 14th HX, I aim to bring them. If there’s a god, they won’t fall in league with Dangerous K, but sit on the front step and drink hot chocolate with the Soaring Santa made of papier-mache.
Gus
(
Distressed Gentlefolk,
Delighted Fan
)