Sunday, October 3

Yesterday afternoon, we headed to an apple orchard south of Lincoln for a little folk festival. There was a guy in a tipi whose name I never caught, who played "The Bristlecone Pine" for us on a handmade four-string guitar. He'd carved the top of the guitar, I think using some kind of green-wood technique, and built the back from bent strips of wild cherry. It was a beautiful object.

John McCutcheon played, a good solid kind of folkie set on five or six instruments, ending with "Get Together". Afterwards we talked to him a little - clumsily, as usual - about the Saturday night set he played at Winfield a few weeks ago.

(There's been a lot of good music around here lately. I've been missing most of it on the basis of just not having any money. The Pixies played in Lincoln last night, which I guess is pretty unlikely to happen again. Matt Sharp was at Knickerbockers the night before that. Of course, this stuff is going on all the time.)

I promise this is going to be a coherent essay before the day is over. Maybe.