Friday: Link Wray at the Horseshoe. 75 year-old rock'n'roll pioneer. A very annoying website but you can read about him there. Apparently he has inspired everyone from Pete Townshend to The Cramps to Black Sabbath. I had never heard of him, but my jaw dropped to those familiar guitar riffs, and that cool composure. He had his wife up on stage with him--this large-ish woman with long, dyed red hair who clapped her hands a lot and sometimes ate snacks.
Julia and I sat at the bar and fended off a pick-up artist with artiste glasses and a blazer and a mock-adult manner: "If I gave you my number would you call me?" and "Ever been to Paris?" were his choicest lines.
We snuck into movement for free at 2:30 after pulling a girly-aw-shucks "we know you are not letting anyone in, but we just wanted a dance fix..."
the music was not bad, but the DJ made kept saying: "And you thought it was time to go home? It's not time to go home. Hahahaha". He said that like 3 times in 45 minutes. It made me embarassed. how pinebo.
Saturday This crazy hazy day from the Quebec fires. The sun was apocalyptic blood-orange by evening, but the eeriness dissipated by nightfall. Yvonne's housewarming was a blast. She had a fire-eater named Frank. Joey played a couple of tunes. the night was warm, the wine flowed freely, the company was good. The hangover was almost worth it.
Sunday Gilrie brunch with guest boy Steve. Emily was back from BC with stories of Vancouver island paradise and surfing in Tofino. We lay in the park and then made out way to Julian's BBQ where we lingered till ten. Sleep was deep and long, my apartment was cool.
OK, so I lost the bet with Tim over the 'Canes-Leafs series. So here is the picture of fashion sin. All ye who gaze upon it tremble in the name of Mickey.
Meet the Bishop from Brooklyn. Jackie, Rachel, Matt and I wandered into a church the SUnday of my visit and had our ears talked off by a ska-loving bishop with a tatoo. Check it out!