Correspondence 101: (no subject)

Hi, 

I think I have a stalker. Now, I know many of you won’t be surprised. Most people bearing such genetic gifts have to deal with the nuisance of an unwanted admirer at some or another point in their genetically gifted life. Why should I be any different? But I have to say, I think my particular stalker might be a little different than yours. Because while your stalker also probably clicks “Send Snyway” when prompted by the “Warning: This message has no subject. Are you sure you want to send it?” dialog box of his/her email program when sending you some emotionally awkward and poorly worded reminder invitation to some dinner event you never remembered hearing about in the first place, something tells me the signature of your stalker is not the signature of the third most powerful person in the world (behind of course the genius husband and wife team of Chang Jin Sook and Do Won). 

Oh, and speaking of invitations … Next week is a good week for you to come see how big my hair gets in the summer. First up, the indomitable Misty Boyce will grace the stage at a place called Mercury Lounge. From what I understand it sounds better when you stand next to the sound man but still not as good as the guy who bangs on a frisbee with a bunch of duct tape wrapped around his fingers about 2/3rds of the way into the unbearably long tunnel connecting the 123 Line with the FM or L Lines at 14th Street and 7th Ave. and 6th Ave. respectively. Make sure to click this sentence to be linked to a place where you can buy tickets for the show. Or you could choose to not listen to me and go to stubhub.com. Go ahead, buy your tickets there. You’ll definitely be glad you didn’t listen to me. 

In unrelated news, but still in keeping with places you can go to see me having a good hair day, the Mother Feather postcard is of course the obvious focal point of the following digital representation of the lamest city on earth … 

… What I won’t mention is how f#@king lame the a$@h)le with the umbrella looks and why he serves as further proof that my life is so much better since I sold my car and stopped having to invite people to shows at The Viper Room. 

Anyway, assuming you are not the kind of person to look like an a$%hole when you walk down the street with an umbrella in the summer in Southern California, you are totally cordially invited to come see Mother Feather next week at a place called Bowery Ballroom. From what I understand it sounds better when you stand next to the sound man but still not as good as the guy who bangs on a frisbee with a bunch of duct tape wrapped around his fingers about 2/3rds of the way into the unbearably long tunnel connecting the 123 Line with the FM or L Lines at 14th Street and 7th Ave. and 6th Ave. respectively.

In related news, I’m making an appointment for this …

Finally, the astute among you will notice that a failed rocker band called Rich Girls is heading into the studio on August 5th. Truth be told, if you actually remember the band Rich Girls and subsequently had the opportunity to witness the forthcoming recording session, you would probably say “Hey, only one of these really good looking guys was in Rich Girls! Who are these other two really good looking guys and how can I get them to come over to my house and watch a movie?” And I would say “Maybe you should send them an emotionally awkward and poorly worded message via some or another social media site. And I’ll tell you more about how excited I am to have some new(ish) tunes be recorded by Steve Wall when I feel like it!”

Mwah!

M

P.S. Speaking of stalkers …

P.P.S. Happy Birthday Debby …

P.P.P.S. I saw you sing once …

P.P.P.P.S. And you were totally drunk …

P.P.P.P.P.S. …

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Re: This Old Apartment 101, I almost forgot to tell you …

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. We are almost ready to invite you over for dinner …

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. …