November 7, 1998.

Yesterday I finally chipped & dissolved away the accumulated layers of nail polish which I've built up in the absence of a good nail polish remover since Q & Pixie Stix's wedding on September 19th. Right up at the end, I had close to 8 coats & 4 colours (including brown, violet, black and the original turquoise). In my mind, it just misses being a magnificent achievement by the fact that only the utterly loony would deem it such.

Gee, I hope I haven't jinxed the marriage.

"Few witches burning, gets a little toasty..."

Caught the Big Sugar show at the Warehouse last night, after some initial juggling of times/locations/people. Spent the first couple hours of the evening with Palaver & Jain, and it went much better this time, thanks for asking. Somehow, I managed to suppress my guardian idiot, and spoke like a human being for much of the evening. Granted, most of my conversation could be characterized as mad babbling (for instance, I apologized to Stacy for my telephone message by declaring that my messages were intended to function like the I Ching...you cast at random & pick out the appropriate sentence). It was like my personality had been set past the maximum rating of 10 into a Spinal Tap-ish 11.

But. I think Jain had a good time with us. I felt quite the cad leaving her after a few hours. As it turns out, I should've stayed in the Green Room. Not only did I not see Maharet, not only did I not have a chance to look fetching & unattainable in front of Mr. Blonde, and not only did I run into Mr. Shoreleave for 2 excruciating seconds, but the show wasn't very good.

In fact, it was the worst Big Sugar show I've ever attended. So very paint-by-numbers, so unchallenging, that I may as well have stayed home & listened to the latest album at earsplitting volume. Plus the usual idiot crowd stories, which I will spare you for the most part. Suffice it to say that the next time some drunk girl dances with a lit cigarette in a crowded space 1 inch away from my face, she's going to get it crammed up her nose. I have no patience for this behavior, especially since I got a hole in my dress from a wayward ash a couple of weeks ago.

After the concert, I wandered the suddenly arctic streets of the business district with Palaver & Poet, pondering the best way to get home. In the end, it was no choice at all...I just couldn't handle waiting for the College bus alone, in the cold, in the middle of the night. Poet offered his home, and I accepted, wondering all the while if I would get into big trouble with Trevor for doing so. I needn't have worried: we don't fight about typical things. No, while a bitter dispute was once sparked from a discussion of Roahd Dahl, he didn't get mad when I unexpectedly spent the night at Poet's apartment.

In the spare room, I will point out, for those of you keeping score. Although why you should care is entirely beyond me.

Hmm, I have become quite bogged down in this point. Quicksand is killing the entry & I will bid you adieu.

"Ginger is always sincere, just not to one man."

"Nobody can eat fifty eggs."

one year ago today: arts & leisure