Buddy Wakefield's Blog, page 50
January 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 @ 08:56
Tonight I walked by/stood near/walked by again/ waited for/scrambled around about what I’d say to @dwightyoakam, who was already in conversation with a sweet [Dwight Yoakam-hogging] couple at a venue in Hollywood, and the restraint I showed in not interrupting or holding him hostage with a lifetime of praise should earn me a goddamn merit badge. Resisting the urge to assume a Fast As You pose, sing Ain’t That Lonely Yet, or reenact Doyle Hargraves freaking out on the band in Sling Blade may be the most adult thing I’ve ever done, until he casually asked in passing, “What’s goin on?” (as a greeting not a concern)… I forgot to answer, nodded like a friendly enough dude, stayed in my lane and walked back to where I was going, a thousand miles from nowhere. Dummy. Haven’t been that beside myself since meth.
January 28, 2020
Jan 28, 2020 @ 19:33
The first time I opened for anybody was an all-woman punk band named Pink Chihuahua’s, fronted by Annie la Ganga, my spoken word hero at the time. Truth be told, spoken word or not, I was just in awe of @misslaganga. I felt like the coolest poet on the planet that I got to open punk shows for them in Seattle. Colleen McCullough, the drummer, would call on behalf of the band once in a while to ask me to open, or to confirm, and it always made me feel like a million bucks. They were giants to me. Life happened and everybody moved, but twenty years later in the curtains section at a Home Depot in Los Angeles tonight…. Colleen!!! Look ANNIE!
January 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 @ 10:10
From “Riled Up and Wasted On Light” in A Choir of Honest Killers. If you’re the Jessica Hall who made and sent this to me, I’m just now finding it. Thank you for it.
January 26, 2020
January 24, 2020
Jan 24, 2020 @ 22:03
Photo @claritymuse
January 23, 2020
January 22, 2020
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