Letters to Holly

Monday, May 1

They Are Definitely Giants

Much to my surprise, that was the most rocking concert I've been too. Yes, Nine Inch Nails was the loudest, angriest, and most body-mangling sonic assault one could find outside a soccer stadium. But They Might Be Giants were jamming. They wielded rock guitars the way I work a custom-made character in a PlayStation 2 wrestling game: We cannot be defeated. They ran through some songs off Flood, their biggest CD, and tore out some new songs that also got the crowd into a frenzy. Asheville's The Orange Peel proved to be a standout venue. It's set up to be nothing more than a performing club as they have no chairs, a long bar, and fantastic bathrooms. This was easily the best $20 I've spent in a long time. Your Sister could not make it, and Travis accompanied me. He was a bit more reserved in the concert while I was bouncing around and singing at the top of my lungs. And at 33, I awoke the next morning to find myself in agony. Unlike the slew of younger, smaller folk, I may be unsuited for such activity. At least on a flat wooden floor for two hours. TMBG only stopped to breathe before their two encores, and they commanded the audience form a conga line to end the show. Most of us did. Those who chose to be unfun sticks were run over. I shocked the bartender by ordering an apple juice. I already had a beer at dinner, and I wanted something with lots of sugar. Travis, who was buying, tried to laugh it off, and I eventually asked for a CapriSun and a bib. No, not really.

Your Sister and I managed to burn most of Saturday in Brevard's antique and salvage stores. I found a place that featured an old rotating comic rack. The books inside it were of mixed quality, but I was more interested in the rack itself. I've been dying to own one for years. Not just any rotating rack, but an actual store-used rotating comic rack. Before the days of comic stores, kids had to find that rack in convenience stores or grocery stores. Now you'll probably find a comic or two there on a bookshelf next to muscle and car magazines. The owner wouldn't part with it though, and now I have a new object to obsess over. We wound up the night with The 40 Year Old Virgin (a surprisingly substantial comedy) and Requiem For A Dream (90 minutes of pure despair).

The NFL draft was this weekend, and it featured some surprises. The first pick was a defensive end out of N.C. State, and the Heisman-winner, running back Reggie Bush, went to New Orleans as the second pick. The current NFL commish is leaving after 17 years of running the league, and if I were him, I'd leave on a high note: I'd force a New Orleans and Green Bay trade. New Orleans sends Bush to the Packers. He'll become the focal point of a new offense and play in front of perpetually sold-out crowds. In return, Green Bay sends Brett Farve to New Orleans. He plays his last season in front of a hometown crowd, he gets to play indoors, and his presence sells tickets in an area needing economic support. Plus, his competitive presence inspires a perennially stinky team. Green Bay traded away their best receiver to Denver for another draft spot, and Farve lost his best target. With the trade, they escape the dilemma of potentially benching its star player to give their second-string QB some needed game time. No one loses, and the commish goes out as a hero to New Orleans and Green Bay. No reason why this shouldn't happen.

Sketch Day
The Holly Solo picture is going along well. The scan is made up of three individual scans. The feet look a little small.

In the news
Colin Powell asserted this weekend that he pushed for more troops when we went into Iraq three years ago. This brings another former military voice against Rumsfeld.

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