Long weekend escapades, CD reviews and More!
Indeed, this should be a good long post (which have been few and far between recently). Lets start slow.
Plans was released last week, and I managed to get my fingers on a copy Friday, and I've been half-assed(ly) listening to it since. Frankly, I don't think I like it as much as their previous, but maybe I just haven't gotten into it? I think the lyrics don't tug my heartstrings quite the same way, but having been dumped to Transatlanticism, I kinda think it might be better this way. I like it though, soothing and sharp. As usual, the lyrics are insightful and clever, endlessly poetic.
This weekend was a bit of a gong show, as any long weekend commemorating my last summer in Vancouver as a bum should be. Friday we embarked upon a Fubar adventure: 7 beers shotgunned. It was intense. Ended up falling asleep on his couch at 12:30 or so, which wasn't exactly the way I had planned to end my evening, but close enough.
Saturday was the kicker, once I got over my hangover from Friday, as I reunited with Drew (my serendipitous friend) for some rowdy good-times. Ahh the beer-fueled mayhem. Perhaps the venue was a bit odd (he and I being more accustomed to drinking in parks) but fabulous nonetheless. Starting and ending with pot, we watched Supertroopers, kicked back espresso and hit downtown at midnight, hopping through four bars between then and closing time, capped the night off by smoking on the Granville Street Bridge, overlooking the city.
And yesterday was shopping and errand running, trying to get my life together before I leave. I look around here and think, my god, how much crap do I have kicking here? But it will all fit into bags, and onto my next adventure. The fear of all this keeps creeping up on me.
Montreal looms closer, and as nice as it will be to see them, I wish I could do it in a vaccum. Those streets I know will be too familiar, and I will leave feeling empty as I did before. Despite my Vancouver good-times, I crave Montreal like an addict. I think going back will show me how little and how much has changed, and I will realise for now, for good, that she is no longer like I left her. The place I left was not a city, not an apartment or a friend, not a school or a bar. The place I left was within me, and its gone.
Plans was released last week, and I managed to get my fingers on a copy Friday, and I've been half-assed(ly) listening to it since. Frankly, I don't think I like it as much as their previous, but maybe I just haven't gotten into it? I think the lyrics don't tug my heartstrings quite the same way, but having been dumped to Transatlanticism, I kinda think it might be better this way. I like it though, soothing and sharp. As usual, the lyrics are insightful and clever, endlessly poetic.
This weekend was a bit of a gong show, as any long weekend commemorating my last summer in Vancouver as a bum should be. Friday we embarked upon a Fubar adventure: 7 beers shotgunned. It was intense. Ended up falling asleep on his couch at 12:30 or so, which wasn't exactly the way I had planned to end my evening, but close enough.
Saturday was the kicker, once I got over my hangover from Friday, as I reunited with Drew (my serendipitous friend) for some rowdy good-times. Ahh the beer-fueled mayhem. Perhaps the venue was a bit odd (he and I being more accustomed to drinking in parks) but fabulous nonetheless. Starting and ending with pot, we watched Supertroopers, kicked back espresso and hit downtown at midnight, hopping through four bars between then and closing time, capped the night off by smoking on the Granville Street Bridge, overlooking the city.
And yesterday was shopping and errand running, trying to get my life together before I leave. I look around here and think, my god, how much crap do I have kicking here? But it will all fit into bags, and onto my next adventure. The fear of all this keeps creeping up on me.
Montreal looms closer, and as nice as it will be to see them, I wish I could do it in a vaccum. Those streets I know will be too familiar, and I will leave feeling empty as I did before. Despite my Vancouver good-times, I crave Montreal like an addict. I think going back will show me how little and how much has changed, and I will realise for now, for good, that she is no longer like I left her. The place I left was not a city, not an apartment or a friend, not a school or a bar. The place I left was within me, and its gone.
posted by Care @ 2:47 a.m.
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