Monday, July 14

never ever saw the northern lights

There was this guy at Wayne State we called Huey. I have no idea if that was his real name, and I never had much desire to find out. He was big, loud, and every few seconds he would make this nauseating snort. The kind you make when you're about to hock a big, fat loogie. Schloooorp. It had kind of an expletive character, and the way it punctuated his conversation would have been fascinating if both it and the conversation hadn't been utterly disgusting to begin with.

I avoided Huey when it was possible. We learned quickly to shut the door whenever he was meandering through our hall, but I do owe Huey one thing, and it is almost enough to make me remember him with fondness: The first Phish I ever really heard was the studio version of "Farmhouse" rolling out of his open door. I loved it instantly, and Phish have occupied vast space in the peripheries of my musical universe ever since.

Thursday, Jeremy and I are heading down to Bonner Springs to see them play. Memory is faulty, but it seems now like they were the first show we ever talked about wanting to see, and so this feels like a culmination of sorts, or maybe like a marker along the road to somewhere.