I'm an old Dinosaur Jr. fan, emphasis on old. The last time I saw the band was Lollapalooza 1993; the core band broke up in 1989. Seventeen years later, they are back together. J Mascis is a legendary guitar player - and loud. I'm not against loud - I'm an old punk rocker - and I travel with earplugs for such occasions. They were so noisy that the floor of The Vogue was shaking and the water in the bathrooms was making waves. It really made it hard to concentrate to hear what song was being played. They did bring back nice memories of my time in Philadelphia dancing in a muddy mosh-pit thirteen years ago, however.

Jeannette Walls wrote the powerful memoir The Glass Castle. I read it last autumn on the recommendation of Big Hat Books owner Elizabeth Houghton Barden. I loved the book, not that Liz has ever steered me wrong. Big Hat Books and The Writers Center of Indianapolis brought the author to town for a reading. Jeannette spoke of the process of writing about her life. The book begins with the compelling sentence, "I was sitting in a taxi, wondering if I had overdressed for the evening, when I looked out the window and saw Mom rooting through a Dumpster." She was fearful that once her story was out that she would lose friends and be shunned by her colleagues. She has been overwhelmed by the positive response. The Glass Castle is a big hit with book clubs, and is now on the reading list of high schools, colleges and graduate programs. Jeannette was as warm, funny, and genuine in person as she was in her book.

My favorite part of the program was the introduction that Liz gave Jeannette. When Liz first got the advance copy of the book she stayed up all night reading. Liz was singing the praises of the The Glass Castle from coast to coast. Soon Publishers Weekly was interviewing her about the book. Jeannette said that article was the first indication she had the book might be a hit. The obvious enthusiasm Liz has for Jeanette and for reading was heartening. If Liz Barden is suggesting it, buy it. . . and plan on an evening curled up on the sofa reading.

Seven hundred people packed The Vogue to welcome Margot and the Nuclear So and So's home. They have been on the road to support their album The Dust of Retreat. The eight-member band is lead by the dreamy Richard Edwards (dreamy in a very appropriate I'm-twice-as-old-as-he-is kind of way). Unfortunately it was midnight before I could get there, just in time for the last song. The two opening bands were also on stage at this point. There were at least fourteen musicians and a hoola-hoop up there - the excitement of the crowd was palatable. They have a large and diverse fan base. I ran into one of our Second Helpings volunteers; she's Aunt Pam to cello player Jesse Lee. I asked someone who'd been there all evening what the show had been like. His description of a 'backyard BBQ with all of your friends" seemed right on. I was sorry to miss the concert, but happy to soak in some of the energy on my way home.

It was a dark and stormy night. Seriously, it was. It was the night of the hailstorm. The hail started right after I'd taken a shower. I went out in the storm to move my truck wearing my bathrobe, red rubber cowboy rain boots and my bicycle helmet. I'm telling you this, so you'll know exactly how dorky I am. They let me in Seven anyway (I had changed clothes by then). I expected to be intimidated by the hip and cool factor of Jermaine O'Neal's club, but everyone was very nice and hospitable. It is not your typical Indianapolis club. The first floor featured a room full of beds and illuminated pillars that I could imagine people dancing on. . . other people. . . not me. Alas, no one was hanging out in that room when I cruised through, but it was still early in the evening, midnight. There is a dance floor and bar on the second floor and a VIP room upstairs. I got to hang out in the VIP area (don't ask how, because I'm not really sure) for a bit. It's a great vantage point. You're on the same level as the DJ and you have a great view of the shadow box with the woman dancing inside. There were plenty of people on the dance floor. I recognized just one song-Play That Funky Music. Of course it was probably not the Wild Cherry version that my brother gave me for my sixteenth birthday. My restaurant manager geek side was shining through as I looked down on the bar, noting how the bottles were arranged and the staff was working. Everything looked clean and efficient. It was fun to see how the 'other half' parties.

Shows at Indy Hostel have the intimate feel of a living room concert. You get to meet the musicians; everyone in the audience is there to listen and is interested in the music. There are no cappuccino machine noises.

Matthew Grimm is as good of a storyteller as those brothers whose last name he shares. He sings of common everyday situations and injustice. He's an Iowa City based musician formally of the band The Hangdogs. He'll be playing an acoustic show.

Our own Amy Lashley will be the opening musician.

This is a smoke-free, all ages show.