I saw the Hold Steady again last night, before which I had a viciously cheap sesame roast beef sandwich and some dumplings (thanks Nick).

The band was good, great even, though I probably liked them better at the totally unself-conscious April show. In a way, though, it was perfect; watching a front-and-center contigent of swooning people buckling under intractable happiness and slapping sweaty palms with Craig Finn reminded me of the lyric from Almost Killed Me: “When I dream I always dream about the scene; all these kids, they look like little lambs looking up at me.” It was a little like role-playing the rock god on his part, but last night it felt like everyone earned the experience. Spent part of the evening battling lumps in my throat.

Got some raspberry seltzer after the show and caught the new slang with N. I probably shouldn’t even bring this into the cruel digital world. Apparently the question on the lips of late night bodega-lurkers swilling Crunk!!! is what’s the crowbar? After considerable deliberation, we were stumped. It’s possible that the question is rhetorical. Maybe just a variant of “hello.” Also possible that it means, metaphorically speaking, what is the thing that is going to pry open that box that we want to get into?, which presupposes answers to the more intriguing question of what the hell is in the box?