Yesterday was an intense series of highs and lows that I just barely endured with my dignity intact. Feeling as dour as ever, I was shocked into momentary good spirits thanks to an utterly unexpected and generous gift from a close relative which will allow the Old Lady and I to make it all the way to Hawaii (and back) at a date to be named later, not to mention secure the proper equipment for my musical pursuits and probably a few other sundries as well. First stop, the record store, where I purchased every Captain Beefheart title in the racks that I didn't already own (which was only two) plus the equally-outre Bat Out Of Hell by Meat Loaf. Second stop got more complicated, as I found myself snarled in traffic for what seemed like hours (which was only one), destroying my mood as quickly as it had been buoyed, proving once again that money cannot overcome despondency. Teeth ground, oaths screamed into the womblike privacy of my Scion, hands clenched into fists, brow furrowed and my body shook with useless rage.

A few drinks at the Comet later, where I listened to Jeremy spin tales of his new life as a carny (only a few weeks on the job and already a co-worker has threatened to stab him in the neck), I was feeling better, since my responsibilities behind the wheel were passed on to Lori. Then I got the news that The End Times had been offered a position next Wednesday, October 10, at the Triple Door's Musiquarium, a fine venue for us and a welcome invitation. Practice was fine despite Kate's nagging illness and my besotted state, then I walked in the rain for an hour contemplating the radical mood shifts that I still can't control but am finally able to identify and even chart to a certain degree. A late night, which I'm paying for now and will likely pay more for tonight when we mount the stage at the Rendezvous, but still a day worth documenting.