the Prof. Snape vs. Ozzy Osborne guy was wearing an ascot, no kidding

I was stood up for dinner, but I had a nice chat with C.R. Avery and sat in the park while Rowan practised with his lovely musical pirate trio, the Creaking Planks, (where I ran into Sean McG, who claims his new clean-cut look was given to him be a group of nuns who drugged him ), instead, so that wasn’t terrible. Nicole rescued my night entirely and possibly even my weekend, too. We went for dinner at Fet’s, theatrically discussed my attempted mugging, her terrible attempt at getting out of the city for the long weekend, my irrational emotional traumas, and the gnome themed bar she found herself stuck at in Squamish.

Love Hurts came on the stereo as we were waiting for our bill, so she pulled a scene, I loudly rebutted her “passion”, and we danced briefly, until it was simply too much and we had to leave before laughter terminally overcame breathing. Course, that happened after, while walking past the we-are-musicians-because-we-dress-like-them “jam session” happening outside Turks. I’m wearing LEATHER! He wasn’t shrieking, exactly, but the entire scene was too much. Too, too much.

Sometimes time swells over and spills little events. I suppose tonight is one of those nights.

Who will be at the Bjork concert? Would you like to meet up? Give me a cell number to call and we can play tag at the gig. (I’m going with Joshua Caldwell and Travis Hildebrandt.)

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