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March 20, 2002

OK, let me just try to do this. I need to finish talking about the weekend. When what I REALLY want to talk about is the cute baby and how much my job blows and my suddenly mindblowing vacation schedule and how soon D&S and I will be moving forward with our plan to be Pittsburgh's most sought after event planners and caterers. But first, the weekend.

Sat night was a lot of drunken debauchery. There was free AUGUSTINER, for heaven's sake and to betsey even. I was so happy to be able to get my lovin from the ONEIDA boys, especially Kid from whom I ain't got no lovin for over a year. I got to meet the new ONIEDA boy, who played the Balinese gongs shirtless in leather pants, as promised. When he wasn't playing he MEDITATED. Rock on. Lemme just say that the other bands both rocked and the evening was very magical in general, and I had lots of intense and surprising conversations and some totally absurd and laughing conversations, and some worry when the projector fell and the man in the hallway would not let me go to make sure everything was alright.(it was) But the thing I remember the most is the way I went right into the trance like altered state brought on by the sound vibration of ONEIDA. They sound different from before, but no matter what they do, the effect is the same. We are whirling dervishes at the mercy of some larger force. It lifts us up and shakes us around. And if we don't get it at least once a year, we become desolate and inconsolable. So now the infusion is complete, and Pittsburgh is safe for the rock once more. Thank you, ONIEDA.

And then it was sunday, and the indian feast was to be had. HG and I got up sorta early and started cooking the dal, and fixed up the besan ladoo, and then we got everything together (except the black peppercorns, which was unfortunate, but I don't think anyone really noticed their absence) We headed to the grocery store to get the veggies, and halfway down the produce aisle the power went out. WOW. I had never been in a big grocery store when the power went out. I was frankly shocked that there were no backup power generators to run emergency lights. It was DARK in there, the only light the barest of gray blues coming from the front windows. We waited it out and the power was back in about 5 minutes. But it was sure WEIRD to be in there.

Got to the mansion, everyone was HIGHHIGHHIGH and got higher and higher all day. I got high mainly on the food and the company and the awesome feeling of community that comes from sharing a big meal with people. My boy was way into his chaat preparations. My girl was the most intensely focused carrot shredder ever. Others helped here and there, stirring, chopping, wafting in and out of the kitchen and giving me just enough encouragement to turn it out. And the meal was eaten, and as always in these situations I remember the quote of John Lennon, about how the first time he made a loaf of bread he was totally dismayed at how fast it diappeared, and he "didn't get no gold record or nothing". I got lots and lots and lots of laud and compliments, but still. Cooking for eight hours and then it is all gone in less than two. But the happy smiling blissed out countenances around me were a great reward.

We watched some hilights from several indian dancing movies, and then got down to the devotional Hanuman flick. It was TOTALLY WILD, just like all the Indian devotional movies, with lots of "special" effects and singing. I don't think we made it even halfway through though--too tired to pay attention. So we packed it up and headed out, for a long intense sleep and then back on the chain gang.

SOME VERY GOOD THINGS:

my hair is very nearly ponytail length; I am in digital cable paradise for TWO WEEKS while J* soaks in her native sun; tonight is drinkin with the ladies night; MANNIX is on every morning at 6am(and yes friends, I WILL get up for it even when I don't have to); I saw "stand and deliver" last night while having a little indian feast and laundry party with my guitar artist; next weekend when sissy and her buddyboy and I meet up in the BIG APPLE we are going to stay in HOTEL 17, where Madonna took the pictures for the SEX book(and, possibly, where Steve Buscemi has slept); the babygirl is absolutely stunning and sweet, and has already given the finger and stuck out her tongue at me; I have plans and schemes for making Herbs and Spices the premier social event and catering company of not only Pittsburgh's underground music and art scene, but quite possibly THE WORLD. Look out Martha, here we come.

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