Tweetin' & Rockin'

***Bernie at the dog park, the Ol' Miss, the Mighty Miss. September, 2005***

If you're not on Twitter, you're missing out. What, exactly, you are missing out on is up to you, depending on whom you follow. You can laugh on Twitter, you can learn about big news stuff you'd never otherwise hear about, you can network, you can pump-up your nonprofit or business, and I'm sure if you put your mind to it, you could even meet the woman or man of your dreams. Plus, you can follow Britney, T.O., and other wackos till your heart is content. You can follow me, chadc324, speaking of wackos.

I'm dog tired, Bernie would be too now. She'd have joined me for some errands, yard work, and of course a walk on this warm evening. She'd be sprawled lookin' all pretty on the living room floor right about now. Speaking of pretty, a wink of the eye to the crowd at Rock the Garden on Saturday, which was super-hot in more ways than one. It was a peaceful, buzzed but not inebriated crowd, and I must say, and here's where the wink comes in, it was one of the finest collection of pretty summer dresses I've ever seen, and this says something coming from a guy who a bought a $12 pair of jeans at Target tonight.

It even smelled good at RTG. Not the women, certainly not the men, but the . . . cigarette smoke. Yes, people were actually smoking cigarettes, my goodness, and damned if the scent of burning tobacco didn't mix mix oh-so well with the good tunes, happy people, cursing Current DJs, and cold Summit beer. I don't miss smokey bars per se, though the scene of the haze near-filtering good indie music, both inevitably pumping through your veins . . . good times. When it was all together again on Saturday, it was a sweet melody.

My dream in life is that before I die this country decides to battle drunk driving with the ferocity of tobacco. What a worthy fight that would be.

There were several differences that Bernie and I noticed upon moving to Minnesota from California. For one, nobody ever flirts here, not like there at least. Another is that stuff is just there for the taking here--like construction equipment, plants at a plant sale. I mean, at night you walk by, and it's just sitting there. In California, everything is locked up, or it quickly becomes someone else's. So at RTG you had to buy beer tickets, then take your ticket to the beer stand, and give your ticket to the beer boy or girl in exchange for an easy-drinking Summit. The beer boy or girl would drop your ticket into a box--a box that was sitting right there, full of hundreds or thousands of submitted tickets. Right there for the taking, in California they would've been immediately tossed in a bonfire, no cheaters allowed. Here, they just rested comfortably in their box, the only attention received being people writing in their blogs post event about the big box of tickets they could've dipped into if they wanted. For better and worse, people don't do that here. We all even left our purses and backpacks in the grass when we walked away for spells, their contents safe and sound upon return.

Big credit is due, due in respect to the prices for food and beverage that were, like, market price and not ridiculous big-event prices. I got a bottle of water and a baguette sandwich from Joe's Garage for $6. A 16-oz cup of relatively premium suds was $5. The pretty and contemporary Walker Art Center was open for our use, to pee primarily. I walked in a men's bathroom barefoot three times. I like to think all this is because the indie crowd is cooler than the mainstream crowd and wouldn't have tolerated capitalist-pig prices that are so common at other well-populated events. Of course, I'm generally at least somewhat delusional.

Aside from the heat, a dog would've had a doggone good time at Rock the Garden. Lots of pretty, friendly people to pet his or her head. I thought about my dog while I was there, how I didn't have to rush home following to let her out. I enjoyed my midnight bike ride home, starving when I returned, fired up the grill for some late-night eats. I always gave Bernie my last bite, still want to every time I eat. Beth brings her buddy Oliver over sometimes, he sniffs around and knows Bernie was here not so long ago. Dogs in my house are cool. Dogs in my heart, better.

Music in my ears is my new BFF, upgraded from longtime good-friend status. If you'd like to meet my newest best friend, check out Amazing Baby, straight outta Brooklyn. Night y'all.