Feeds:Twenty-sixth Sunday after Pentecost
"No one eats Grape Nuts, that's crazy." -Lorange, 11/9/2008
Three more weeks until the new liturgical year. Seriously, I'm switching calendars next summer. To what, I have no idea.
It's been an eventful week, to put it mildly. I achieved gainful employment, I ate gyros at the only place serving gyros in Hyde Park I haven't eaten gyros at before (by way of celebration), I helped elect our homeboy to the Presidency, I accidentally went to a gay bar, and I acquired the CD I've most been looking forward to for about a year now.
Long versions: I work at the Harris Theatre in Millenium Park, where I *shudder* sell tickets over the phone. At least it's for something I support, and it's not cold calling, so it's... survivable. It's a bit close to the "working for money" line for my liking, but it does have one notable benefit: free tickets. That's right. So let me know if anything upcoming catches your eye, I might be able to hook you up.
Gyros: Seriously, I've eaten a lot of gyros in the past two years. A lot of gyros. All over town. I could write reviews. I will write reviews. It will be awesome.
Obama: I voted, then I went home and ignored everything. I still haven't looked at any results, but Lorange and Joe made sure to let me know when they got home. I set off a champagne cracker to celebrate, then went back to bed.
Gay bar: In retrospect, I should've been able to guess, since the concert was explicitly billed as a queer-and-friends-of-queer event... and the name of the bar was "the Jackhammer". Not exactly subtle, ha. It was a lot of fun, though. I went to see (now officially favorite) local band, Aleks and the Drummer, and was finally able to purchase their recent EP, May a Lightning Bolt Caress You. (NB: Apparently most of the songs are mostly in English; I never would have guessed, since the song where the lyrics are most intelligible is a cover of a Polish pop hit.) Yes, I've been listening to it on repeat; it's one of the very few recordings I've encountered in my life that does justice to the energy of a live performance. <gush>I love it so hard.</gush>
But back to the concert. First band, all the way up from Kansas, was Charles S. McVey, a trio named for the pianist/vocalist/songwriter/frontman. A mix of soft- and dance-rock, they sang, as far as I can tell, mostly dirty love songs. Catchy and emotional, they put on a great set. Next up was Aleks and the Drummer, who played some stuff from their upcoming album. They had some technical difficulties that interfered a little, making it their worst performance I've been to. It was still yards better than most, of course. Oh my gears I love that band. Finally, cover band hard-rockers Barely Standing closed out the night to a thinning crowd. With some impressive guitar solos and well-chosen hard rock favorites, it was fun to keep dancing around and use all the energy I worked up during the A&D set. I must be out of shape, though, I apparently can't dance for forty straight minutes like I did in high school. A great tragedy.
Miscellaneous gay bar experience: I'm used to the two bathrooms in bars being "Mens" and "Womens", not "Public" and "Private". Seriously, there was not even a door. Their video selection was hilarious: The night started with punk documentaries, moved to Hanna-Barbara's Godzilla: The Animated Series, and closed out with True Stories, the only one that was close-captioned. I felt awkward at first, which I felt kind of ashamed of. When more A&D fans showed up after the first band, though, that I'd mostly felt awkward because I'd been the youngest person there by a good two years. With more of my peers around, I relaxed a bit, yeah, danced like crazy. And finally, McDonald's has, it seems, ads specifically aimed at gay bars: For their "late-night" campaign, there was a poster. This poster showed a picture of a big mac on a black background, with the caption "Hot buns. Juicy beef. No cover." If that doesn't cause you to hiss "Yesssssssss" through clenched teeth, you are not functioning within acceptable parameters.
And then I went to a coffee shop, because Lorange is seemingly incapable of sleeping if the temperature in the apartment exceeds fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit.
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