Equinox Procrastination

OK. Wow! So much going on. It's getting to that never-going-to-catch-up point. First of all, today is the day to usher in spring, and I am going to do so with one of my very favorite life activties, an Indigo Girls concert. In fact, I am getting pumped up for it (as if I needed any Indigo pumping) by listening to them on Talk of the Nation. So for you who have yet to experience the glory of Indigo, have a listen to the show segment. Public radio + Indigo Girls = a little bit of heaven on earth.

And I love seeing them in Manhattan! This will be my fourth time seeing them in concert in Manhattan, not counting seeing them play live on two TV show tapings here. (Hmmm, it occurs to me that if I'd kept up that habit I could actually have watched more television as a live audience member than as a regular viewer.) I really, really, really want to hear them play their cover of "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" tonight. If you know the song, you totally get why I want to hear it IN New York, and if you've heard a recording of them covering it, you can understand my desire even more. If you've heard them do it live, I'm so jealous I don't even want to talk about it. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Ah, so where was I? The Ides of March. Right. I have a million things to mention, but I'll start with this. I loved the Ides of March. On that day, I was coming up from the subway in Forest Hills, and saw the Metro newspaper with a headline like "9/11 mastermind confesses..." Immediately I thought, UGH. "Confess"...right. Was that a CIA-induced "confession"? The latest ploy from the Bush administration to up his approval ratings? So many possibilities. Then, I popped into Starbucks and before acquiring my delicious, overpriced beverage of choice, I saw the New York Times and noted that THEIR headline was "9/11 Mastermind Said To Confess." Thank freakin' god some media outlet has the sense to question a thing or two. Especially considering where we are.

Where are we? Four years in, that's where. Four years ago this week was the run-up to the launching of the latest war in Iraq. Four years ago Bush et. al. were ignoring among other things the United Nations, countless protests, international opinion, the sense god gave a goose...and they went marching off to warmonger. I remember that week well. The Oscars followed shortly thereafter, I think two days. Michael Moore won Best Documentary for Bowling for Columbine, and he stood up there and noted that he and his fellow documentary filmmakers were in pursuit of truth, while as a nation we had just had our fictitious president start his war for fictitious reasons. Three days after that, I quit smoking. I always know how long we've been at war with Iraq, because it also tracks my smoke-free life. Four years. Four long years, y'all.

"I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind,
got my paper and I was free..."
-- indigo girls, 'closer to fine'

Interesting, what can happen in four years. You can get a college degree (although, ahem, some of us might take a bit more leisurely approach to that particular timeline). You can raise a child from a helpless newborn to a rambunctious, thinking, reading little one. You can be a President(a real one) for an entire term.

Or you can kill a lot of people.

Oh, and by the way, before IG and TotN I was completely enthralled to discover and am newly addicted to Flixster. If you know me, you probably got my invite. I think I love it.

Does anyone else think Laura San Giacomo
can play me in the movie of my life? I maybe will call it Lindigo Girl.

"You work in the system,
you see possibilities and you glisten,
I show the hell you're gonna give them,
when they back off the mic for once and give it to a woman...
What we get from your war walk,
the ticker of the nation breaking down like a bad clock
I want the pendulum to swing again,
so that all your mighty mandate was just spitting in the wind.
It doesn't come by the bullwhip,
it's not persuaded with your hands on your hips,
it's not the company of gunslingers,
the epicenter love is the pendulum swinger!
She is, she is, she is..."


--indigo girls, 'pendulum swingers'