O! Proper winter, how I've missed thee! And while it doesn't compare to the snows I've seen in the previous twenty-some years of my life in the Midwest, the Northeast and, um, the goddamn Eastern Bloc, it's something!
I know it's not the fluffy goodness found in more Northern climates, but I don't care. I will make a snow angel anyway. I will name her St. Shambles, the goddess of wet and cold. Or, perhaps, moist and chilly. Or damp and frigid. Whichever.
But before I go get sodden and frosty, I just want to thank those of you who played and/or came out to Solly's last night. Sadly, there weren't many, but I've always been one for quality over quantity. Also, I hate humanity, so, you know, any bigger of a crowd would've freaked me out (which is why I will only make one St. Shambles today, opposed to a whole gang of soggy and shivery friends).
And speaking of friends (not that I have any not made out of snow), a big congratulations goes out to all the acts that played last night, including Sad Crocodile, John Thornley (of U.S. Royalty) and The Dustys, who apparently performed for the first time yesterday night -- a feat that blew my mind as these guys were definitional of awesome. They were loud, creative with the time signature and really fun to watch. In fact, The Dustys even gained a blinged out Claude the Sexy Traffic Cone's seal of approval.
De toute façon, I need to go take care of this snow angel business before it turns shades of dirt and urine. Au revoir!