Big John Bates!!

There are a mere few people I know whose musical tastes I trust without question.
1- my friend Ian. One of my oldest and closest friends who is also a brilliant musician in his own right.
2- my friend Jeremy. When he sends me an mp3 via MSN messenger, I download it and put it on my mp3 player without question.
These are my no-questions-asked authorities on all things music.
But when my friend Marcus told me there was a rockabilly show Monday night at Zaphods that was not to be missed, I took him up on it. He is now the newest member of my a-list.

I agreed to check out this rockabilly show with Jeremy after an 8-hour shift tonight. Zaphods is an intimate venue for shows, so I expected a small crowd (Monday night, after all) and some good tunes. Big John Bates and the Voodoo Dolls are comprised of John himself on guitar and vocals, Scaroline on double-bass, and an exemplary drummer whose name currently escapes me (my deepest apologies). They tour with the Voodoo Dolls, a burlesque floor show that took me from impressed to astounded in minutes. Their routines were replete with full-on narratives of badass chicks rocking out, retro-style. Curvacious women with real tits, flashing glimpses up their skirts and swinging flaming pasties from their nipples. This did nothing to detract from the awesome music, which was consistently high in energy and authentic rockabilly beats and basslines.

I really cannot say enough about the show tonight. Download their albums if you will, or buy them if you're so fiscally secure and inclined... but I have to insist that if they come to your town (and they very well might; hailing all the way from Vancouver, they played Belleville last week. Belleville.) SEE THEM LIVE. I would have gladly shelled out twice the hard-earned dough I spent for the orgy of the senses I was treated to tonight.

Two showings in one weekend!

My afternoon at the Underpass project was plagued by rain and the fact that I had seen the Dark Knight at midnight the night before; four hours sleep does not a perky vendor make. There wasn't much traffic, due in part to the weather. I found it to be a pretty busy walkway where businesspersons were bustling through; no time to browse and no tourists. I did make a sale though, the very first wallet I had ever made. I'm eager to see what this Friday is like; I'm undecided as to whether or not to participate in the project in August.

The Basement Artists show was great. I was a bit grumpy at first because I had to miss a roller derby practice to set up at 5pm (an important RD practice too; we were going to vote on the team name and colors) but I've had such a busy past few days, I didn't mind an afternoon off. The show was at Zaphods, and I really liked the location of my set-up. It was... cozy. No lights in my face, the music wasn't too loud; I was infinately more comfortable than at the Babylon show. It's nice to be able to chat with people looking at my stuff, to answer questions about how stuff is made or just to receive general compliments.

I sold a set of coasters and a zippered pouch, both to very enthusiastic-looking customers. There was another booth of leather vendors; some very gothic/medieval gauntlets, corsets and stuff. I fell in love with their blackish-red leather roses and bought one for a measly $10. I actually wanted to offer more, it's so pretty.



And look how nice it looks on my dresser, with my black roses picture frame (which needs a photo in it, incidentally)



I love it. I should have bought a proper dozen.

Somber hangover reflections

I haven't been in a very good mood lately.

I'm stressed by the multifarious pressures of putting together the PhD application, which is essentially designed to be a heart-attack inducing bag of stress. Futher, to have to convince all these schools and profs that you're worth any of their attention at all can be a bit of an ego-crusher. I think the whole point of its tediousness is in weeding out people who say "what's the point?" and throw in the towel, and believe me, I've been close to that point.

Futher to that, when you're feeling stressed and low on self-esteem, any little thing can throw you off your feet. Case and point was last night, my staff xmas party.

I had worked that day, and had grappled with my usual feelings of "nobody likes me here" and "nobody appreciates the work I do here". That happens. Nonetheless, I do enjoy the company of the people I work with, regardless of what I percieve my popularity there to be. And I was looking forward to the party too, especially the gift exchange where I envisioned a big reaction to my thick, soft, fluffy mittens that I worked so hard to have finished in time.

We do a "chinese gift exchange" at our parties, which means that when someone opens a gift, they can swap it for a previously opened gift. The year I made alligator mittens, everyone fought over them all night and my heart soared. The girl who unwrapped my mittens this year tossed them away in favor of something "better" without a second's hesitation, and my heart sank. They wound up going to the new girl, who claims to like them a lot, but seeing them so unappreciated was unreversible.

This is the plight of the handmade gift enthusiast; the odd time someone will not appreciate the time, work and care put into your items. And fuck, does it sting.

On a lighter note, my disappointment culminated in my almost getting into a fight with some girl at the bar. Picture this; Zaphods. I'm wearing a BCBG corset-top and pencil skirt with my highest stiletto heels. I have an updo and elaborate makeup. As I walk along the bar from the dancefloor-end toward the coat-check area, I encounter some congestion of people. My travels slow down as I'm worced to walk toe-to-heel against people in front of and behind me.

All of a sudden, the girl behind me spills her drink all over me. I'm not exaggerating either. I felt it all over my chest and left arm, my top and my leather watch; I even felt it fall down my left leg and into my shoe. I raise my arms and turn to start accepting the profuse apologies I'm expecting, but I don't get any. When I inform this broad that she has just showered me in whatever whe was drinking, she told me to "take it easy", and my cup runneth over.

Details of the event are a bit of a blur; I vaguely recall repeating "take it easy" incredulously. What I do remember in perfect clarity was that she tried to walk away from me, toward the door and down the steps... so I helped her along. I shoved this girl down the steps from behind. I was 100% ready to fight, despite the fact that I was a) wasted, b) in high heels and c) far smaller than this girl I was fronting, even with my high heels on.

For all I know, it would have been a fight I'd have lost, but I'll never know because the girl just disappeared. I looked for her for the rest of the night, but she was probably hiding from the drunk, crazy woman (me).

Anyway, drink-spilling girl, if you're reading this, you need to be taught some manners. And I need to vent some aggression. So bring it!