Has 2007 started yet?
Happy 2007, everyone.
I hope your New Year's Eve was wildly enjoyable, or at least moderately so?
It is, I freely admit, an overrated evening, when dull suburbanites cut loose and go wild in a desperate attempt to have the sort of night out that they can boast about for the next few weeks - the sort of night that myself and many other jaded and drug-addled inner-urbanites have every weekend. I think I stopped enjoying NYE at least a decade ago, as a consequence of DJ'ing in clubs on the night in question for too many years in a row. Nothing like a spot of repetition to take the edge off!
My faux-supercilliousness aside, I had a great night this year, at least for the majority of the night. My composer friend David had a house party, which was where I began my evening. From there I headed off to meet up with Graeme and Josh (ho has a blog but I don't know what it's called) at The Arthouse, where we were splendidly entertained by the raucous queer hardcore of US band Limp Wrist, who you can read more about in the San Francisco Bay Guardian, here.
God, they were magnificent! They were everything that I always wanted from queercore, back in the mid-90's when I was spurred to put out five or six issues of my queer zine The Burning Times. From furious punk chords to wry camp comments, right down to encouraging the cuter stage divers to divest themselves of as many items of clothing as possible, so that by the end of the night there had been a couple of naked crowdsurfers, Limp Wrist totally rocked my night. As they say/scream in their eponymous song: "Out of the closet and into the pit!"
After a few drinks post-gig, I strolled off towards the Witness Protection Program Social Club at about 2am, where I only stayed for about three-quarters of an hour: I was feeling uncomfortably claustrophobic, and the pill I'd taken wasn't helping. I left, planning to drop into WEeekender @ Ding Dong before finishing up my night by catching Digger and the Pussycats at Pony at 4am. Instead I walked sweatily home, had a shower, and chilled out listening to CD's on the couch.
So how was your night?
I hope your New Year's Eve was wildly enjoyable, or at least moderately so?
It is, I freely admit, an overrated evening, when dull suburbanites cut loose and go wild in a desperate attempt to have the sort of night out that they can boast about for the next few weeks - the sort of night that myself and many other jaded and drug-addled inner-urbanites have every weekend. I think I stopped enjoying NYE at least a decade ago, as a consequence of DJ'ing in clubs on the night in question for too many years in a row. Nothing like a spot of repetition to take the edge off!
My faux-supercilliousness aside, I had a great night this year, at least for the majority of the night. My composer friend David had a house party, which was where I began my evening. From there I headed off to meet up with Graeme and Josh (ho has a blog but I don't know what it's called) at The Arthouse, where we were splendidly entertained by the raucous queer hardcore of US band Limp Wrist, who you can read more about in the San Francisco Bay Guardian, here.
God, they were magnificent! They were everything that I always wanted from queercore, back in the mid-90's when I was spurred to put out five or six issues of my queer zine The Burning Times. From furious punk chords to wry camp comments, right down to encouraging the cuter stage divers to divest themselves of as many items of clothing as possible, so that by the end of the night there had been a couple of naked crowdsurfers, Limp Wrist totally rocked my night. As they say/scream in their eponymous song: "Out of the closet and into the pit!"
After a few drinks post-gig, I strolled off towards the Witness Protection Program Social Club at about 2am, where I only stayed for about three-quarters of an hour: I was feeling uncomfortably claustrophobic, and the pill I'd taken wasn't helping. I left, planning to drop into WEeekender @ Ding Dong before finishing up my night by catching Digger and the Pussycats at Pony at 4am. Instead I walked sweatily home, had a shower, and chilled out listening to CD's on the couch.
So how was your night?
Comments
Bonnie - Homo Hill, hey? Sounds truly colourful!
happy near year!