A Post Wherein I Do A Lot of Rambling and Some Copious Name Dropping

Okay, I'm running on three hours of sleep today. By the time I reached slumberland Morning Joe was already on. I've decided to start staying up all night because frankly, I never get anything done during the day. I'm too busy looking at Google Reader, Facebook and Twitter. Occasionally I stare off into space. I am so 21st century pathetic.

Today is the day my very first Velocity column appears in the paper along with, apparently, an even more giant version of my head. I just got through telling someone I think there are maybe five pictures of myself that exist in the world that I don't hate. She asked why I don't use one of those and my reply was, "Because they were all probably taken when I was three." Anyway, you can read it here if you are so inclined.

Today is also the day that my post about Johnny Cash's 1994 keynote goes up on the SXSW blog. I've embedded the clip here. Towards the end you can see yours truly standing next to the man in black and it was just magically random that I was there and he decided he wanted some ladies standing next to him for the photo op.

I try not to, but I often take for granted the life I've led so far. It never seems that interesting to me that I've met most of my musical heroes, traveled the world as a tour manager, or booked The Viper Room even though all I wanted when I was a kid was to be part of the music industry. However, as I spend summer nights thinking back on my life, trying to recall experiences for book fodder, I'm finally starting to go, well, holy cow, I dropped out of high school (twice), lived at a night club, moved to Austin with $20 when I was 18 because my father kicked me out, started volunteering at SXSW and the rest is a crazy history full of stranger than fiction tales.

So now it's fun to remember the time Keith Clark from The Circle Jerks taught me how to play pool after two skinhead chicks tried to beat me up before their show (they called me a fish faced gook and told me to go home, nevermind that technically I was home). He even re-gifted me with a necklace that a fan had given him. I still have it somewhere. Several years later he became an accountant that several of my friends used.

I can't believe I had dinner with John Paul Jones from Led Zeppelin when I was in London and he and his wife drove my friend April and me to our bus stop. I was so jet lagged my face was practically in my food... a poor showing, to be sure. Somewhere I have a 3-D picture of us that someone took at SXSW the night Bettie Serveert's tour manager decided he didn't like the towels I'd given him.

And finally, for today, I guess I'll go with the story of spending week after week with the men of the Neurotic Outsiders. Yes, every Monday for a month I had John Taylor of Duran Duran, Matt Sorum and Duff McKagan of Guns n Roses, and Steve Jones from the Sex Pistols crowding into my office, hanging out and generally being very nice boys. I think Duff was my favorite. I also got to know Ian Astbury a bit during this time as he and Billy Duffy sat in on a couple shows. How many hours did I spend obsessing over Duran Duran when I was 13? Too many. How many times did I listen to Appetite for Destruction while watching the sun come up over downtown Dallas? Countless. Even reading this paragraph it feels like some science fiction far removed from my current life as a housewife in rural Kentucky.

The funny thing is, these stories sound kind of cool to me, and the last thing I've ever been, let me assure you, is cool. Like right now I'm listening to Donna Summer and wearing really ugly sandals. Yes, it's true. Also, if I'm retelling stories here, I apologize. I just found out I've posted the "New Moon on Monday" video twice. Apparently I'm getting senile which is also... not cool. And I need a nap!