Out with the truckers and the kickers and the cowboy angels...

I'm trying to remember a time when every waking hour didn't consist of watching redneck movies, researching redneck movies or writing about redneck movies. I'm sure such a time existed, but not in the year 2004. Someday this war's gonna end.

Tonight I just could not take it. Had to get out of the house, and one of my fave local bands was playing two minutes away. A no-brainer, right? Except there's personal weirdness involved, so I did the ol' sneak in after they start playing, sit at the dark end of the bar and slip out before they finish. (Of course, a couple of the band members read this blog, so I'm not exactly CIA material when it comes to stealth activity.) Had a beer, listened to the music, felt like a Camus character, or Huck Finn at his own funeral. Was this the right thing to do? I dunno. It was interesting. Occasionally I'd glance over and see people I like sitting with He Who Must Be Disemboweled With a Red Hot Poker, and that wasn't so great. But overall, it was nowhere near the worst case scenario. Stayed maybe 25 minutes or so, then they started up a tune that hit a little too close to home and I made my getaway. Now more hillbilly movies await. Someday this war's gonna end.