This World Is No Place For A Mind Or A Thought

First, AWESOME! My speedometer on my car showed me this the other day.
23!

So, Spencer bought us tickets to go see Patrick Wolf at the Nylon Summer Music Tour at the Oriental Theater...
We stopped in at Patrick Carroll's to stuff our maws.

Patrick Carroll's, beyond having a wicked bar food menu with fresh made potato chips...makes these insane plates of fish 'n chips.
If you go there share the plate, it's huge!

This little sucker...was my downfall.
This was the first cider I'd had since I'd been back from London.
It sounded so good paired with the fish 'n chips and I sucked it down!

Learn from me, fellow drinkers, don't mix cider and ANYTHING else.
It makes you a maniac. A maniac that confesses love to everything in the room and hugs with reckless abandon.

Spencer is such a dear...he deals with all of my hijinks.

This game causes epileptic incidents...

And this game brings out the worst in people...SHUFFLEBOARD.
People who play it, inevitably, turn into a-holes.
It's something I've learned. Another bar lesson I'm happy to share with you.

After dinner, we traipsed about the North Side to Tastes for a cocktail before the show.

It's so lovely over on Tennyson street.
Lots of lovely homes, nice people, cute stores...




At Tastes, Spencer & I put away an entire carafe of blush sangria.
It appears innocuous, but my friends, that shit is delicious and lethal.

Sadly, while sipping and gabbing about New York, Emily Dickinson, and a variety of other engaging subjects...we missed Jaguar Love. They opened the show at the Oriental.
I was bummed. I really love the Blood Brothers and Jaguar Love is one of their new incarnations.

HOWEVER, we did NOT miss the Plasticines, and I encourage you...if you have the opportunity, to see them because they are totally fun!

FRENCH GIRL POP MUSIC!
They were adorable, they owned the stage, and commanded the audience.
The leader singer even called me out straight away for not clapping while taking her photograph.


Statler and Waldorf.

The Living Things were after the Plasticines...and they were alright.
Sort of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club-ish.
Honestly, the only things I can remember clearly about their set is me shouting at the bass player that I loved his Bauhaus t-shirt.
That's just the kind of hair pin I am.

But what we'd been waiting for was sweet, darling Patrick Wolf.
Sigh!

This is us swooning.
However, my swooning may have been from a combination of Patrick's dreamy voice and the endless granache that I kept swilling.

He's the best thing since sliced bread...
KNEE SOCKS, FIDDLE PLAYING, SHORT PANTS, UKULELE PLAYING!

Please check him out...it's worth your while, honest engine!

Um, yeah, so...while everyone else was standing in front of the stage...I helped myself to sitting ON the stage.
Sorta like I owned the place.
That's how I roll.

I found myself, throughout the entirety of Patrick's set, clutching my chest and reveling in his dark, deep voice and praying that I could have his voice as the soundtrack to my life forev.
It's really that good.

After the show, we stepped out and we met, face to face, with the lead singer of the Plasticines. I can't say that I said ANYTHING smart, but as Spencer said, "Thank God neither of us had the presence of mind to speak in French to her!"...
And I'm thankful of that as well!

Also, have a look at the sweet Throbbing Gristle t-shirt Spencer is wearing.
It looks smart on him, don't you agree!

After the show...a lot of stuff happened...

I recollected insisting that we go to the Lion's Lair, as my good pal Steph was rocking it out with her new band and their lead singer was celebrating his 21st.
I recollected showing up and hugging every face that fell into my line of sight.
I recollected helping aforementioned 21 year old to a soft downy place where he could lay his pathetic head.
And I recollected begging Spencer to take me home and never let me drink wine again.

Thankfully, Spencer kindly deposited me at my front door and I crawled into my apartment and fell asleep with a vague memory of agreeing to actually get my ass up the next day and do stuff.

That stuff was going to a tasting party with Steph out in Thornton or something.
The suburbs are terrifying enough, but going to a tasting party seemed like torture.
Thankfully, it turned out fine...and sort of turned into a trip downtown to see some of the Westword Music Showcase.

Some fine gentleman gifted me a ticket into the whole rigmarole.
Whoever you are, guy, THANK YOU!
You can sort of see Douglet's hot ass motorcycle back there!

The Garage was packed. It's not really a music venue, just sort of a cool bar...
But they jammed in too many people and when we arrived Reno Divorce was playing to an enthusiastic crowd that was pouring out of the exits.

Honestly, it looked like a shit show, but it started raining...like REALLY raining...so, we plowed through the sweaty meatnecks and drunk woo girls to the back of the club to drink PBRs and try to collect ourselves.


It was nice to be rolling deep with the crew!
Douglet always keeps it pretty cool.

Steph and Stench keeping it fresh.

We mostly just stopped to see Lying Bitch and the Restraining Orders...and let me tell you, their set was pretty awesome!
Go see them! They tear it up!


However, I had played hard enough...and when their set was over...we bailed.
We ate hot Thai curry and watched Kill Bill and laughed until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore!

I haven't officially given this summer a moniker, but I don't know if it needs one.
I'm starting to see the light and that's good enough.