Went to see the documentary about The Dixie Chicks, "Shut Up and Sing" at the Parkway. I had meant to call Enver to ask him if he wanted to see a movie, but I was too lazy/impulsive to call him.

It was a drizzly dark night and I'd lost myself in a bookstore, buying a book for the memoir class (The Liar's Club by Mary Karr,)and a play (Hurly Burly, by David Rabe, in case I end up teaching the playwriting class at the Writing Salon,) and Best American poetry 1989 because for some reason I'm a sucker for those Best American poetry books even though I generally only like 50% or less of the poems.

So it was an I'm spending the night by myself with a dead cell phone battery kind of evening, and at the last minute I decided to take myself to the movies. Where I found Enver whom I'd thought of calling earlier! It made me feel that despite the traffic and the urban sprawl, that the Bay Area can feel like a small town sometimes after all. And that telepathy works better than cell phones.

There were only about six people in the whole theatre. The movie was great! Inspiring. I had been dimly aware of the controversy, but since I don't listen to country music--or pop for that matter--I didn't really get into it. (I'm afraid G has spoiled me with his jazz collection.)

I still couldn't respond to the 2/4 beats and the driving plaintive rhythms--there's not enough surprise or subtlety for me--but I fell in love with the women, the quality and passion of their singing, their beauty, their anger, and especially their synergy as a trio.

(I did really appreciate Marti's fiddle playing. After the movie I went to their web site and listened to samples of all the cuts on their latest album. I liked "I Hope" the best--it had a spiritual anthem feeling.) (I feel kind of bad about being musically narrow.)

I could completely relate to the intimacy and committment they felt as a performing group, and I loved the strength they clearly derived from their bond. We should all be so gutsy. Maybe we could all be so gutsy if we had such tight community around us all the time.

The best part: they looked as though they were having FUN throughout the whole process--well, maybe not when the death threats came in, but they had a sense of their own power. In fact, they were literally playing with their own power. They knew their own value--they were the top-earning group at Sony records, something like that--but beyond their economic power, they knew the value of what lay within them. It made me proud to be a woman and an artist. It made me want to write lyrics for a song for them.