did i go the the show with the female-fronted metal band?
no.
one wanted to be watch dvds
one was asleep
one had to shower and eat meat (and shower himself with meat?)
so nope.
i had a little nap
which wasn't remotely restful
tried to find thomas's phone number so i could meet some folks at reflections.
ne pas listed.
didn't go.
brian and meaghan, however, invited us to their semi-vacant apartment. both of us were beat: greg is more smily and delerious today than mopey and spacy as in the past coupla days + my body is finally staging a mild protest to my not sleeping many hours per night. my bowels are starting to get tight and stagnant. but hey-- we went. we took the number one bus-- got on at the oxford. got off too late, backtracked to tobin street.
both brian and meaghan were in fine form, lots of stories,
lots of cheer.
and brian showed us rough cuts of a made in the world video
which was fun
and lots of old liverpool footage-- dating back to '94.
it's a fawkin' classic, buddy.
canadian fire. people's. the mind grind.
and vintage, and i'm talking vintage
brian
darcy
mike murph
greg
so effin' glad to see that.
and la la la along like that and metric was half-expected to show.
and when the door opened, in came:
joe whitty.
no, seriously.
and so serious (a little later).
i know so much more about this man than perhaps i should,
and have seen him in various incarnations, impersonations.
a surprise for brian and meaghan before heading to liverpool.
a real geezis treat for me-- my virgin ride with joe fuckin' whitty.
i was SO nervous when he walked in, that he would give me the meaghan treatment and say something about my small tits, but i was really lucky (altho my nervousness followed me thruout the nite). he slapped my knees, really getting into some stories.
blake-- you picked a shitty time to go to liverpool-- because we had him here in halifax.
"who the fuck are you? what's yer story? what're ya doing here? fuck! I can give ya a hug anyway."
and this is how i meet joe.
"i know where that is-- it's the geezis blueberry capital of Canada-- yet you can't buy any geezis blueberries there."
sad but true, joe. sad but true.
within minutes, i heard him jones for vista phones, yack about jacking cable, and horrang every fat fuck in town.
the tales: unbelievable.
he was on fire-- and i'm the only one there who hadn't experienced this-- i did my best to contain myself-- but cackled contstantly.
he relayed a lot of fantastic stories that nobody there had ever heard-- perhaps trying sending brian off with something fresh: episode ideas or mersey dreams.
and he kept screaming at stogie for taking so many pictures.
and so he was talking about eating out, and how waitstaff must get crushes on their customers,
"seriously, a lot of good looking people fucking eat-- think about it!"
and so it went for three hours--
crime afoot, ingonish, LRHS staff, dirt, cussing, and lots of classic moments.
gold.
i'd do no justice to a joe whitty story, so i won't relay any.
"four and half fucking years, huh? you and greg should have little fucking gregs running around, fuck."
na na nope.
i said if i did, i'd send them to liverpool with him.
"i don't want yer fuckin' kids."
and that was my first real taste of joe jesus
and i can't really express how awesome it was.
i was pretty sure my evening would be terrible sans:
1)metal
2)drinks at freeman's
3)dancing at reflections
which were my original evening's plans
but joe whitty made a meal out of taking the sheal.
no.
one wanted to be watch dvds
one was asleep
one had to shower and eat meat (and shower himself with meat?)
so nope.
i had a little nap
which wasn't remotely restful
tried to find thomas's phone number so i could meet some folks at reflections.
ne pas listed.
didn't go.
brian and meaghan, however, invited us to their semi-vacant apartment. both of us were beat: greg is more smily and delerious today than mopey and spacy as in the past coupla days + my body is finally staging a mild protest to my not sleeping many hours per night. my bowels are starting to get tight and stagnant. but hey-- we went. we took the number one bus-- got on at the oxford. got off too late, backtracked to tobin street.
both brian and meaghan were in fine form, lots of stories,
lots of cheer.
and brian showed us rough cuts of a made in the world video
which was fun
and lots of old liverpool footage-- dating back to '94.
it's a fawkin' classic, buddy.
canadian fire. people's. the mind grind.
and vintage, and i'm talking vintage
brian
darcy
mike murph
greg
so effin' glad to see that.
and la la la along like that and metric was half-expected to show.
and when the door opened, in came:
joe whitty.
no, seriously.
and so serious (a little later).
i know so much more about this man than perhaps i should,
and have seen him in various incarnations, impersonations.
a surprise for brian and meaghan before heading to liverpool.
a real geezis treat for me-- my virgin ride with joe fuckin' whitty.
i was SO nervous when he walked in, that he would give me the meaghan treatment and say something about my small tits, but i was really lucky (altho my nervousness followed me thruout the nite). he slapped my knees, really getting into some stories.
blake-- you picked a shitty time to go to liverpool-- because we had him here in halifax.
"who the fuck are you? what's yer story? what're ya doing here? fuck! I can give ya a hug anyway."
and this is how i meet joe.
"i know where that is-- it's the geezis blueberry capital of Canada-- yet you can't buy any geezis blueberries there."
sad but true, joe. sad but true.
within minutes, i heard him jones for vista phones, yack about jacking cable, and horrang every fat fuck in town.
the tales: unbelievable.
he was on fire-- and i'm the only one there who hadn't experienced this-- i did my best to contain myself-- but cackled contstantly.
he relayed a lot of fantastic stories that nobody there had ever heard-- perhaps trying sending brian off with something fresh: episode ideas or mersey dreams.
and he kept screaming at stogie for taking so many pictures.
and so he was talking about eating out, and how waitstaff must get crushes on their customers,
"seriously, a lot of good looking people fucking eat-- think about it!"
and so it went for three hours--
crime afoot, ingonish, LRHS staff, dirt, cussing, and lots of classic moments.
gold.
i'd do no justice to a joe whitty story, so i won't relay any.
"four and half fucking years, huh? you and greg should have little fucking gregs running around, fuck."
na na nope.
i said if i did, i'd send them to liverpool with him.
"i don't want yer fuckin' kids."
and that was my first real taste of joe jesus
and i can't really express how awesome it was.
i was pretty sure my evening would be terrible sans:
1)metal
2)drinks at freeman's
3)dancing at reflections
which were my original evening's plans
but joe whitty made a meal out of taking the sheal.
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