A beautiful weekend consists of a lot of things. This one in particular is a simple recipe. It only takes one [or two] grand evenings. The first full of crushileptic tendencies, every boy I've loved in the past year or so [including the infamous Pretty Bus Boy] in attendance at Zaphod's -- I cannot complain. I've seen Pretty Bus Boy more in the past month than I've seen him in total. Odd, but plusplusplus.
Next, the much-anticipated Starling CD release. Apparently, they barely scraped together the CD in time for the show... but it doesn't show. It is absolutely divine. It's nice to finally have some new material from them on tape. Delicious. Not to mention the opening band, Hi Lo Tron, who were a weird meld of Hawksley Workman and the Rheostatics.
The show was then followed by an early-morning-viewing of Hedwig and the Angry Inch [which I had never seen before]. Strange, but intriguing movie... although I still prefer Velvet Goldmine. I wouldn't mind seeing it again, though.
Crashed out on the couch. Woke up and around the corner for breakfast at the Manx Pub. Better conversation about old favourites and what they're up to. It's nice to talk to someone who remembers the, er, golden age of Ottawa indie rock [or, that is, what I consider the golden age] and its constituents. Swapped stories about where the various people are now. Superb morning.
Home again to bake vegan biscuits and yummyfur soup for supper. A decent day/weekend, to say the least.
And I'm hardcore crushed out over one person that is so within reach, but I'm so utterly afraid to do anything about it. Mostly because I know I'll be shot down... in a pathetic, sad, dejected sort of way. So crushing it is.
'Somehow I get the feeling I'm where everyone knows your name' - Phantom Planet
