A couple small print updates:

* Added to the link list is Giants Jottings, which features spring training photos. Posting pictures of Noah Lowry pitching live BP in late February is crueller than making a homeless man sleep downwind from the chimney of a steakhouse grill. Can I have some March, please? Because March is only one month away from April.

* Cashed in some old stuff at Amoeba this weekend ($56 in store credit!). The highlight so far: Lucinda Williams Live at the Fillmore, culled from the three nights she spent in S.F. back in 2003. The ravages of time on her voice are stark, as she snarls to hit the high notes, but it's no detraction. Her phrasing and timing are aces, as is her band. (Hear full-length samples of a few songs here.) I was there one night to watch her go apeshit because of too much feedback on her mike. She bitched out the young techie who had to step onstage each time, but she redeemed herself by flirting with him shamelessly once the problem was fixed. Thus, in a nutshell, is Lucinda: an unpredictable older woman who's lived too long to be patient but hasn't loved too much to stop wanting love. There is a name for women like her: cougar. Rowr.

If she were your sister, you might think twice about asking her to keep an eye on your teenage son while you were on vacation. By the time you got home, he'd be sipping whiskey, smoking Camel Lights and listening to early ZZ Top and Howlin' Wolf.


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