Battle in Boston: Typewriters v. Johnsons (Thursday)

This week we’ve been listening to Dylan’s Theme Time Radio Hour. On the drive into Buffalo, we heard the show on weather. On the way to Boston, we heard a show on dads (when he said happy Father’s Day, I panicked before I remembered it was September, and a Thursday.) Driving through bucolic central MA, we heard songs about weddings. When Bill was maneuvering through the Harvard campus and Somerville, MA at the height of rush hour, we heard the divorce show, and about Bill’s divorce. He’s got a rough job.

During the intermission, a twitchy guy in his late 40s/early 50s came up to the table demanding to know who was in charge. His band was coming on at 10:00 (it is now 8:15) and we “need to get that shit off the stage so they can load in.” (“That shit” was the set and props for The Typing Explosion.) A guy asked about his band, who they are. “We’re a cover band,” he said, “The Swinging Johnsons. We play here Thursdays.”

Eight of us slept in a giant loft in Southie with Michael Brodeur and his neighbor with the repeating car alarm.