Pining for Stromness

Know what I like about Threads? Every now and again I have a nice exchange with another human WHO I’VE NEVER MET IN REAL LIFE! This ultra neato keen shit never gets old. Over at the dead bird site, I saw and experienced so much angry drama—I expected it from Threads (and now Bluesky). Luckily, the angry mansplainers have only come for me once (and were summarily blockedy, blocked, blocked).

Anyway, my cool convo was with a woman living on the Orkney mainland. Yeah, one of my favorite places on the planet. My fellow Threader asked me why Stromness, a small town, was so significant to me. I relayed a snippet from when I was there for the annual folk festival (yes, this was back in my hearing days):

There were two bands in particular that I was immensely keen to see. The Iron Horse, a speeding freight train of trad/rock/Gaelic/punk and Blackeyed Biddy, more straight up Scottish folk but they play tunes of their own, with an emphasis on social justice. They were both playing at the concert on the final evening. This was held in an old, creeky Victorian church/meeting hall/theater kind of a structure -- the sort of place with balconies and upper balconies and way upper, SRO, nose bleed balconies. Late in buying my ticket, as usual, this is where I was along with a group of young backpacking punks kitted out in sweatshirts, huge unlaced sneakers, floppy athletic socks and kilts. We were all moving to the music, enjoying the tunes and then Iron Horse came on and it was as though a wild tornado of sound and musical fury hit the joint. Don’t know about the folks on the mezzanine level but those of us in nose bleed-ville were ignited and pogoing as though our blood had been replaced with high volt current. I wondered, albeit briefly, if the balcony would collapse from our collective stomping, spinning and salmon-headed-upstream dancing. (more here)

This was a transporting, phenomenal experience. The best music, as I'm sure I've said before, is the sort that you can feel in your sternum.

Turns out that my Thread friend lives five miles outside Stromness, is a musician and will be playing at this year’s festival! I’m desperately wistful. I would love to be there even though I can no longer hear the amazing music or brill story telling. The festival runs from May 23rd to the 26th. Two days later, wicked early on the 28th I’ll be at MGH for, yes, more brain surgery fun.

The up side to all these surgeries? I know for a fact that there are no dead worms in my bean. They would've been found by now. Right? Apparently, despite his wealth and fame (and my distinct lack thereof), I’ve got one up on RFK Junior. 

Sweet!