Like sands through the hourglass...

or
When did my life turn into
a poorly acted daytime soap opera?

My kitchen counter this morning tells most of the story. Empty whiskey, scotch and wine bottles, littered highball glasses with the yellow tinged water of melted ice cubes, an oven tray of half eaten chocolate brownies, two darts, and strewn Morrissey 12-inch singles.

My body fills in the blanks. Sore arm, sore head, sore heart.

The evening began with baked salmon fillet marinated in honey, brown sugar and balsamic vinegar, steamed rice and green beans, with a side of Caesar salad. Guests arrive shortly thereafter, which leads quickly into endless rounds of electronic darts and copious amounts of increasingly strong whiskey and gingers. I knew it was time to go when the Moz singles came out. That, and the dartboard suddenly has four bullseyes.

We head to Old Man Ludecke's cd release. The bar quickly fills. The crowd is an even mix of those bobbing to the banjo and those bobbing to the girls in their laps. Banjo is officially the second sexiest instrument, just behind the violin. But banjo pickers just seem a much calmer bunch than those crazy violinists.

Then the real show starts. The Cardigan Appreciater arrives, comments on my cardigan and stands to my left. The Girl in the Black Striped Dress (from here on in known as The Girl in the Beret) arrives, comments on my tie and stands to my right. Suddenly I'm on channel 12 at 2 pm. I make brief eye contact with Library Girl from across a sea of people. She looks to my left. She looks to my right. She laughs straight at me.

Perhaps it's because by this point the whiskey has stolen my ability to bend my knees, or better yet, maybe my body was telling me something by making the room spin, but I end up spending most of the evening wedged in beside The Girl in the Beret discussing Woody Allen and my recent fetish for suspenders.

At some point I look up and not only is the band gone, but so is The Cardigan Appreciater. I make noncommittal plans to see Match Point (again) at some point later this week with The Girl in the Beret. I then head to the Apple Barrel for the worst club sandwich east of Montreal.

I can't say that I really know what I'm doing, whether I'm doing it right, or if any of this is going to actually amount to anything. But aside from the club sandwich, last night was good.