We don't really know what control is

It is not that I had not thought once all day about the events of January 6th, but I have no idea how to commemorate an insurrection, especially when the schadenfreude spectacle of its architects eating their own has ended in a far-right Republican hold on the House and its Speaker. The will-o'-the-wisp of a working government was tantalizing while it lasted. I am infuriated by what seems like the passive nihilism of too many people, but the world doesn't have to make it so hard for me to believe in its future, let alone my own.

When I tried to take a picture of the falling snow tonight, it should probably not have been through my office window, but I like the unreal street it created.

Can't tell if it's me or the room that's moving

While many more pressing problems exist in my life, e.g. I have some kind of exhausting cold (because the pandemic is not in fact over, multiply tested with different brands of test and no confirmed or even suspected contacts) and I still can't tell how many upstairs neighbors we have because a seemingly infinite number of people of various ages have been clattering in and out of the apartment with accessories and furniture and then dragging it around the floors over our heads all day (at some point it would be nice if they put down rugs), I just wish to complain about the fact that it seems increasingly likely that I will end up watching at least a selection of Peyton Place (1964–69) after years of total indifference to its cultural phenomenon because I have discovered the third and fourth seasons contain a major arc with Dan Duryea. Fortunately it does not appear to be readily available to me, but this is a problem I did not foresee when I discovered Duryea in 2015.

But the dead don't get no vacation down in that subway station

What I actually did with my evening was virtually attend WUMB's Tribute to Dick Pleasants, which I had no idea was happening until half an hour before showtime when spatch texted me about the memorial concert setting up in the main house of the Somerville and I immediately called my parents, who had listened to Dick Pleasants for decades, first on WGBH, then on WUMB. Because of cats, I came in partway through the opening set, which turned out to be Chris Smither doing fantastic blues about the Devil and the underworld. Garnet Rogers performed two deeply poignant songs, one of them written early in the pandemic and featuring a content warning for mention of their barn cat's testicles ("It's my process, man!"), and in between told a very funny story about being driven up the wall by Tom Paxton, indefatigable songwriting machine on quarantine Zoom. I had no idea that Ruby Dee and Ossie Davis had had a child who is a legendary bluesman, but Guy Davis opened his set with "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine" and could have stepped over from playing Hermes in Hadestown. Bob Franke did not sing, but spoke beautifully, and I played "The Great Storm Is Over" during one of the radio host interludes. I am reminded every time I hear Lori McKenna how much I like her kind of alternative growl of country and folk music and she did a lovely cover of John Prine. I did not recognize Barnes Newberry by name, but I knew the sound of his voice from in between protest songs. Tom Rush had a trio of songs about leaving, the first of which would have made the concert alone because "Urge for Going" is one of my oldest autumn songs and the third of which I am hoping he records because just about everyone I know needs a really delightful kiss-off song ("If there's hell to pay, just send me the bill") these days. Kate Campbell's singing voice was younger than her speaking voice and she used it for complicated memories and histories of the American South before joining Davis on a spiritual I had never heard: "All along this teacher's journey . . ." The concert closed with John Prine's "Paradise," partly disorganized and comfortable and heartfelt. It was a sold-out show. I couldn't have gotten there in person even if it had been safe. I am so glad the station streamed it and I found out in time to hear.