I went up to get some rings resized (again) and then went to get a sandwich and after leaving the shop I was putting my earphones back in. I had one in and was pulling the other one from its storage place when a man dressed in a very nice suit was coming my way, and when he passed by me he said a little under his breath, “I’ll be that earphone.” He didn’t really look straight at me that I could tell and he just kept walking, and I did one of those “WTF” things you do when someone says something you don’t understand or aren’t sure you heard right and which makes no sense in any context that can possibly rush through your head right at that moment.
Then I continued putting my other earphone in–the one I had been about to pull out when he walked by–and it hit me: said earphones had been residing down my shirt sort of in my bra and I had grabbed the second one out right when he got close to me. (Down the shirt is a handy place to keep them when you have to get them out of your ears temporarily, like I did when I was talking to the sandwich lady.) This whole exchange only took about 2 seconds to transpire but by the time I got it and started laughing the man was long gone. Well he sure had a nice suit. Armani maybe. Definitely Italian.
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I took some new gig pictures of a Boston band called A Dark In The Light and they have used them for the front page of their myspace. Here are a couple that I really like:
The rest of the set is part of my flickr page so please go and look at some so that I don’t feel like a failure with no views. You can look at others too! There’s probably something in there that would interest you. All kinds of goodies. XD
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Nine Inch Nails has provided a download to an entire new album on their site, nin.com, for free. Trent Reznor said: “Thank you for your continued and loyal support over the years–this one’s on me.” Also the pre-sale dates for their upcoming tour are posted, so if you are a fan and want to go you should sign up so that you get in on that. They’re playing at Mohegan and Worcester and I hope to go to one of those.
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Re the rings being resized: one of them I had had made smaller before but it was still a little too big, or maybe my fingers got skinnier. The other one needed to be made bigger. So I went to that jewelry repairman I discovered recently and he did both of them and wouldn’t take any money. He’s a really nice guy and if you need some jewelry fixed up, go see him. His name is Visham and he’s at The Repair Shop, 339 Washington Street, Boston, MA 02108, 617-980-9486. Call first during the summer because he might have his Gone Fishin’ sign up. He’s located inside (in the basement) of a sort-of jewelry consolidation place: it’s a long narrow store with about 10 different jewelry places inside. It (the upstairs shop, not Visham’s place) has a little bit of a … how shall I put this … a gangsta vibe to it? Not the people working there, who seem to be an assortment of average-looking men and women of various nationalities, but the jewelry on display would make Puff Daddy (before he turned into Sean Coombs again) proud. You’ve never seen so much big gaudy gold and diamonds piled on top of each other as in that place. They’ve got rings that would make the Pope ashamed at the austereness of his own. Great giant necklaces of enormous shiny stones of indeterminate origin, embossed gold emblems on chains as big as those on your snow tires, huge initials on the end of golden ropes that would prevent you from ever forgetting your name or at least what letter it starts with. So when I was leaving the repair area, I went upstairs and there was some kind of “altercation” going on between a couple of customers. (I had nothing whatsoever to do with this; I don’t always be the one who causes trouble.) A great tall man with a partially shaved head and a spike through an area of his face you’d not think a spike would fit was yelling at some other guy to “not fucking do that in here or I’ll break your fucking face.” Joy, I had to walk through this disagreement in decorum in order to leave. Which I wanted to do in case there was a shootout, but which I also did not want to do in case there was a shootout. I suppose I could have gone back downstairs. But apparently the yellee left right then and the yeller took his posse out and I followed and got far far away as fast as I could.
Shortly thereafter is when I ran into Italian Suit Man who wished to reside in dark cozy confines of my low-cut shirt.