Smallhouse Log

Frisat

I came home drenched in sweat with my shoe and pants in tatters. Let's do this by the numbers.

songs I recognised in the Nodes set: 4.
times I got hit in the head with a teenager: 2.
shoes lost: 4, possibly five, none mine.
dollars spent: 15, counting cover.
times After the Sun's vocalist's voice cracked: 10+.
people who shouldn't have know my name, but did: 3.
people I didn't expect to see there, but did: 3.
awkward conversations: 2.
hugs received/given: 3.
people I was in Cyrano deBergerac with: 3, counting Dylan. None were Lisa Champion.
people who knew me from Denny's: 3.

So Katie Clarkson grew her hair out, and now she's a hottie. I didn't recognise her until she reminded me that she knew me. My neck is tired, very tired. I did like Nodes better before they sold out. OK, so they haven't sold out, but they're hardly the same band they were when I fell in love with them. It was no coincidence that I rocked hardest and cheered loudest for the older songs. The Spill Canvas rocked hardcore, though it was harder to catch the (stunning) lyrics with a full band behind Nick. I blew out another pair of shoes, the third to be destroyed while dancing in thirteen months. They were only two and a half months old, too. I'll have to buy new ones tomorrow before work.

Oh, yeah, the line-up was:
Nodes of RanVier
The Spill Canvas
After the Sun
En Memoria

In bad news, the Fireside Bowl is still effectively dead. All future shows will be 21+, and will only occur a couple times a month. I mourn Chicago's loss. Also, Dylan's taking his computer with him to college in a few days, so it'll be back to the Library for me if I want to use the internet in the coming two weeks. Then, sweet, sweet high-speed internet a la uchicago.

This is your last chance!

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