Sometimes my power to completely and wholly delude myself is frightening. Ideas will pop into my head and I will like them so much that I will believe they are true for no reason other than I decided it was so.

See, tonight I am going to go see Elvis Costello at the Myth in Maplewood. I’ve never been to the Myth (a renovated Just for Feet store) because mostly only Poison, Ratt, Dokken, and White Lion play there. While I would probably enjoy shaking my ass to a live version of “Talk Dirty to Me,’ I’m not willing to pay for the pleasure.

It’s not an Elvis venue. But, he’s playing there.

Last week I was telling Vodo about going to see Elvis at the Myth. He was snotty (of course). “Isn’t the Myth really big?”
“No,” I said. “It’s teeny tiny. It only holds like 200 people.”

He shrugged and I gave him the finger.

This weekend I asked my friend Wolfdogg about Myth (he’s actually been there). Allegedly it’s HUGE, bigger than First Ave.

Where did I come up with the teeny, tiny delusion? I’ve been wracking my brain for the past four days trying to figure out who told me such an egregious lie. The sad part is, I don’t think anyone did. I think I just wanted the Myth to be eeny teeny and made is so with the strength of my belief.