wildcat

It's a sloppy Monday. I didn't sleep too well last night because it was too hot, and also I think I still need to get used to sleeping with ear plugs - there was one night, mysteriously, where the new roommate slept in silence, but then it was back to the usual and I've got some ear plugs to pull me through. Very hot. I suspect with the plugs in I can sleep with the window open too, so I'll try that tonight and hope that I don't go completely insane. Work was slow and disoriented, I didn't get much of anything really done. A yapping dog made noise outside for over an hour and we all wanted it to stop.

Last night was Klezmer at Pagliacci's, which was a lot of fun; Michael, my dad, Dan, Nathan, Erika, and Rob went. Dad left quickly to "wander around" and such because I guess the number of people was screwing with his comfort zone a bit, he left before the music started and ended up outside reading and listening to it out there. It was great, the music rocked, although the waitresses were all stressed out, it was busy, the owner was making an ass of himself, and the number of people at our table kept fluctuating. We had to make a point of telling the waitress she was doing a good job, considering she'd been yelled at, ordered around, injured, and other things.

Joanna showed up - it was her birthday - and we took my dad home before a couple hours of mad dancing at Evolution. It was Sunday, five-dollar triples night, and most of the music was crap, although I got them to play some Basement Jaxx, "Romeo" - the last time I heard that played at a club was back in Prince George, at the trashy Metro which opened up in the Yellowhead Inn with the same management that used to run the Underworld. The Metro was a tragic affair where certain girls from my high school worked (Heidi, one of them, was a "megabitch" in the Shannon Doherty sense of the word), it was always dark and never terribly busy.

The Yellowhead Inn, for those paying attention, burnt down in a freak (i.e. potentially arson-related) fire at least a year ago. Nothing has been built on the site since, and it's basically a shitty parking lot.

Got moderately drunk - drunk enough to notice only to feel it fade instantly. But I had a lovely Virgin Suicide at Pag's, along with the Sophia dish, a fettucine thing with a white wine cream sauce, crab, shrimp, and smoked salmon.

Tonight, the scene of the crime is probably going to be at Cinecenta to see Federicko Fellini's Amaracord, which I've seen once before in the company of Matthew on a trip to Vancouver. I think my father's going to wander around campus and take pictures and read or something, he seems cagey.