Since the summer started, I've seen the performances of a couple of amazing critical darling writers. A few weeks back, I went to see David Sedaris at Powell Symphony Hall, which was hilarious, and while getting my copy of his new book signed, he asked what I was studying in college; when I mentioned Japanese, he gives me a 日本語の copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day. It's all in kanji, so I can scarcely read a word, save the occasional number or verb stem (which probably mean something else than I think they do), but very, very cool. I also saw Mrs. Duckham, my AP English and Literary Analysis teacher from high school, for whom I have infinite respect. I figure, if I run into her at the same literary event, I've done something right.

Last Tuesday, I saw the Magnetic Fields, whose songwriter Stephin Merritt writes some of the most clever, artful lyrics you can find in U.S. pop music these days. Brilliant performance. I have no idea how exactly it is we wound up with front-row tickets, but I'm certainly glad we did. Andrew Bird opened, a glorious violin/guitar/unidentifiable phrase trainer-type pedal-playing one-man band.

Over a few weeks, I've seen both one of the greatest modern humorists and one of the greatest modern songwriters. I doubt it'll make me a better writer. ...Maybe it'll make me a better consumer.
- posted by Eric @ 4:38 PM