I have opinions on things and I like to talk about them.
6.8.05
to the Sean Desmond lookalike at last night's sloco show
Like Gypsy, you seemed to be alone, drinking water, and grooving in your own plane (whilst occasionally taking out passersby). You delighted and amused me too, but for entirely different reasons. Good job working that groove.
An Open Letter to the Gypsy
You appear at Slowcoaster shows usually unaccompanied, wearing a floor length hippie skirt and an apron top both of which look custom-made or at least not mass-produced. You don't drink (that I've noticed) You head on to the dance floor with your face shining with delight, kick off your shoes and proceed to put all the other dancers to shame. You personify grace. I think you have dance training, including perhaps belly dance training, but you never appear to be dancing for the sake of dancing or being noticed. You just seem to channel the music.
I wanted to say, thank you. You raise a bar band gig out of the ordinary. Sloco's music is the most danceable thing I've heard live in a while, and you demonstrate sheer joy in your movements. Ever since I first noticed you at the Planet almost two years ago, I've called you Gypsy in my mind. Sometimes when being downtown seems sordid or I've just gotten to the point where I'm disgusted at the "meat parade" and the juvenility and squalor, I think of you. It helps.
I wanted to say, thank you. You raise a bar band gig out of the ordinary. Sloco's music is the most danceable thing I've heard live in a while, and you demonstrate sheer joy in your movements. Ever since I first noticed you at the Planet almost two years ago, I've called you Gypsy in my mind. Sometimes when being downtown seems sordid or I've just gotten to the point where I'm disgusted at the "meat parade" and the juvenility and squalor, I think of you. It helps.
5.8.05
Good Folk and Big Brother
Caught the Jenny Whiteley show at Stayner's Wednesday (well, most of it... the spirit was willing but the flesh had to work early). Arrival was rocky ... we got there just in time for them to start charging cover--although they retro-collected around the tables after--and the lovely but totally scattered bird at the door asked if we were there for the Laura Whitley show.
However, a tasty feed of inexpensive but yummy and filling appetizers lightened our mood again, and then the Whiteley-Wrights took the stage and it didn't matter. For some reason for the first three songs or so it seemed like Jenny was holding back to make her beloved sound better, but maybe that's just my overly analytical mind. By the time she was into great tunes like the female stalker song and Banjo Girl, both partners were cookin'.
A great evening that ameliorates somewhat the fact that I'm not getting to Lunenburg :-(.
Last night's Big Brother intro'd the newest twist (or at least brought back a favourite twist from past seasons) of bringing back an exiled houseguest. The two obvious contenders are Eric (fuckin' 'Cappy') and Kaysar. Kaysar is a graphic designer, and better looking to boot, which naturally predisposes my sympathies. About time the devious mind of the designer was recognized! But the set up is very interesting, and makes me wonder if the producers are dabbling in some political research: the righteous, indignant family man Eric, a firefighter with a 9/11 connection, versus Kaysar, a Muslim with a devious mind for strategy. A set up?
I'm very bitter that Canucks can't vote. Don't blanket us with your dumbass pop culture and then not let us participate! Jerks. :P
However, a tasty feed of inexpensive but yummy and filling appetizers lightened our mood again, and then the Whiteley-Wrights took the stage and it didn't matter. For some reason for the first three songs or so it seemed like Jenny was holding back to make her beloved sound better, but maybe that's just my overly analytical mind. By the time she was into great tunes like the female stalker song and Banjo Girl, both partners were cookin'.
A great evening that ameliorates somewhat the fact that I'm not getting to Lunenburg :-(.
Last night's Big Brother intro'd the newest twist (or at least brought back a favourite twist from past seasons) of bringing back an exiled houseguest. The two obvious contenders are Eric (fuckin' 'Cappy') and Kaysar. Kaysar is a graphic designer, and better looking to boot, which naturally predisposes my sympathies. About time the devious mind of the designer was recognized! But the set up is very interesting, and makes me wonder if the producers are dabbling in some political research: the righteous, indignant family man Eric, a firefighter with a 9/11 connection, versus Kaysar, a Muslim with a devious mind for strategy. A set up?
I'm very bitter that Canucks can't vote. Don't blanket us with your dumbass pop culture and then not let us participate! Jerks. :P
3.8.05
What the HELL is with the talking babies?
Ok, I've had enough of the current commercial trend of babies talking with not-even-cute adult voices. SOMEBODY MAKE IT FREAKIN' STOP!!
2.8.05
the breeze of death passing near
Just heard that the owner of my favourite breakfast spot/coolest café in Downtown Dartmouth took his own life this weekend. I am floored and chilled.
1.8.05
Blood will tell
It is frightening for the child of an alcoholic to admit the last few times downtown I have gotten a tad too tipsy. The first time I brilliantly accosted Mike Campbell (Remember me?? You let me use one of your pictures one time!! --my equivalent of "I carried a watermelon??") at Ginger's and sadly didn't retain nearly enough of a fantastic Stephen Poltz set.
Last night I was at the Al Tuck Quintet show, completely digging the feeling that in that room I was at most two degrees of separation away from just about anyone of note on the Hali music scene. I <3 Gus's. Tuck was in great form, and the dream band were on (although it strikes me that Benn Ross is a bit wasted in this kind of situation).
BUT... sadly I had spent the day babysitting my best friend's two kids and facing up to my UTTER LACK of motherly patience. How has my own child survived this long? I am not fit. Anyway, I wound up the longest seven hours of my life with a ripping headache, so threw on a good cleavage dress and headed down, tossing back a bottle of beer in about 5 minutes and then ridiculously and mistakenly agreeing to split a pitcher with my SO. Bad. BAD idea. Monumentally bad. Had to leave before midnight lest I truly embarrass myself, so missed Plaskett taking the stage to lead a few.
Wandered up North enjoying the fresh air and the detachment of being drunk. Tottered over to Willow to discover where this cache of artists with a crawl space gallery might be located (but being by church, I was actually up too far, so didn't see the house). Made it safely home to SO's apartment (recklessly unzipping my dress under my cardigan about a block before getting there) and passed out, although I was woken later both by his return home and by his loud ass neighbors having a backyard party at 4:30 am.
Debating whether to brave the gallery show opening tonight, to try to overcome the feeling that it is really just for people they know and I'd be intruding. Meh. If it was actually not in a house... I dunno!!
Last night I was at the Al Tuck Quintet show, completely digging the feeling that in that room I was at most two degrees of separation away from just about anyone of note on the Hali music scene. I <3 Gus's. Tuck was in great form, and the dream band were on (although it strikes me that Benn Ross is a bit wasted in this kind of situation).
BUT... sadly I had spent the day babysitting my best friend's two kids and facing up to my UTTER LACK of motherly patience. How has my own child survived this long? I am not fit. Anyway, I wound up the longest seven hours of my life with a ripping headache, so threw on a good cleavage dress and headed down, tossing back a bottle of beer in about 5 minutes and then ridiculously and mistakenly agreeing to split a pitcher with my SO. Bad. BAD idea. Monumentally bad. Had to leave before midnight lest I truly embarrass myself, so missed Plaskett taking the stage to lead a few.
Wandered up North enjoying the fresh air and the detachment of being drunk. Tottered over to Willow to discover where this cache of artists with a crawl space gallery might be located (but being by church, I was actually up too far, so didn't see the house). Made it safely home to SO's apartment (recklessly unzipping my dress under my cardigan about a block before getting there) and passed out, although I was woken later both by his return home and by his loud ass neighbors having a backyard party at 4:30 am.
Debating whether to brave the gallery show opening tonight, to try to overcome the feeling that it is really just for people they know and I'd be intruding. Meh. If it was actually not in a house... I dunno!!
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