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You're reading an old entry from Michelle "Lexi Kahn" DiPoala's online diary, formerly called Jungle Sweet Jungle. Blog name changed to Low Budget Superhero in October 2005. Now I mostly go by SuperLowBudge. You can call me Lexi, Michelle or SuperLowBudge, or if you're my mom, then Shelly. Enjoy these old posts (except if you're my mom.) Please follow on Blogger at superlowbudge.blogspot.com. From there you can follow me on Twitter and some other platforms. Thanks!



Saturday Night Live

(March 3, 2001)

I'm bummed because I missed Orbit's CD release at TT's tonight, but not bummed about the reason: my 6pm interview with the Birdsongs of the Mesozoic ran for hours. We talked into the tape recorder for awhile, then I listened to them rehearse. Utterly, unequivocally captivating. Time flew.

Though it was cold earlier today when Westbye and I went Goodwill hunting (of course he made a really bad Good Will Hunting joke), it was half-sunny and not snowing. But when I walked out of Berklee after the interview, it must have been after 9:30 and a weird, tiny-flake snow was...well, not so much falling as weaving its way drunkenly down out of the inky sky.

I pulled my black wool faux-fur trimmed cape tighter and started up Mass Ave to the train. A minivan ran the light and almost killed me and some gear-toting Berklee students as we crossed Boylston. Thank you, Anti-Lock Brakes. The weird tiny-flake snow made it seem like the air was quivering. I got tokens and boarded the train, somehow ending up in the middle of a loud, laughing Guatemalan family who kept passing around a cell phone, each person chattering what appeared to be suggestions about what was wrong with the cell phone. They all needed a dentist badly. I didn't bother telling them you can't use a cell phone in the subway. My head was still thrumming with the sonic residue of snake charming flute, sax, pounding piano, and electronically altered guitar wrought into complex, layered soundscapes.

Fuckin' genius.

This morning I made myself get up by 10. Hub was drafted into back-up duty: "If I'm not out of bed by 11, sit on me until I get up." I needed to do some laundry and some research before meeting Westbye at 1:30. While I waited for laundry, I printed a bunch of Birdsongs press and started an outline for the story. Partway through the dry cycle I began to panic. I usually don't. Panic, I mean. Usually, the most insidious pre-interview worry is a sort of musing about what to ask, and that's only because any writer wants to ask good questions that'll make the piece turn out interesting.

But these are the legendary Birdsongs of the Mesozoic. These guys are the shit. This is like meeting Adrian Belew or Reeves Gabrels or something.

I'm sure I made a total fool of myself.

So anyway, I didn't get home until a little after 10. I had to pee and I had to eat something...if I had a time machine I might have made it to TT's. And that, my friends, is why I missed Orbit.


Erik Lindgren

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