Though you can still call me Lexi Kahn, I'm pulling a Cougar/Mellencamp move and re-identifying. My name is Michelle. I live in Boston, by way of New York, by way of a tiny town in Connecticut. I live with Joe. We're DINKS (dual income, no kids). It's a miracle I have made it to my thirties. Thirties! I am SO a Gen X'er -- go ahead, ask me about the 80s. I love good books, good movies, divine food, leisurely travel, smart comedy and, especially, music. For 11 years ('97 to '08) I was a regular in the local Boston rock scene using the name Lexi Kahn (Google me!) but quit the whole thing to pursue other interests. What those are...is probably what this diary will be about from 2008 forward.
So keep reading! You never know what'll happen.
I don't remember which night this happened, but because of how late it was, I THINK it might have been Tuesday. That day was long. First I did Rainmaker stuff all morning, then I had lunch with Chuck and Eating Boy at Bertucci's, then Chuck came back to my place to listen to CDs, then I took a nap, then around 11 Wolf came over, then around 2 or 3am, I walked down the hill to Hub's. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that was Tuesday...
It's about a mile to Hub's house. I REALLY looked like ass--hair in a messy ponytail, glasses, not a speck of make-up, beach shoes, and a very pajama-lookin' old T-shirt and grey gym shorts. I also had a quart of Gatorade in my hand (the red kind), and a worn copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. There was not a soul in sight. It was a gorgeous, jasmine-filled, hot summer night, total solitude in Somerville.
Oh yes, and I was singing. It was "Boys of Summer." You can thank The Ataris for the remake that all the rock stations are overplaying.
"I can seeeee you-
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
You got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on, baby..."
When suddenly I wasn't alone anymore. There was a bicyclist pedaling up the hill. A nanosecond of of startle gave over to "Eh, I don't care who sees me walkin' with my Gatorade and my book and my singin', besides, what are the odds it's somebody who'll care."
"And I can teeeeeell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone--"
"Ad Frank," I said to the bicyclist, not because I'm prone to calling out random local rock star names in the street in the middle of the night, but because that's who it was.
"Hey Lexi, how you doing?" Ad said, and kept pedaling.
"Great."
A little voice inside my head said, "Don't look back, you can never look back."
