Today's challenge: writing about the Beirut concert this week without falling into a musical swoon. I'm actually thinking it's not possible, but here goes...
Reasons this was a Bunklelife near-perfect concert experience:
1) Huge whack of people on the stage - I know, this isn't a logical reason perhaps, but for some reason I love the energy and visual spectacle of this kind of thing.
2) Huge whack of people playing instruments not played by Rush - Sorry Rush (OK, no I'm not). But I have a passion for accordion and violin. And though I won't say I have a passion for french horn, it's great to see a good brass section too.
3) Phenoms excite me no end - Zach Condon is astounding. He is 22... 22. And I know there are a lot of great young musicians out there, but there aren't many that have the complex and rich musical vision baby-faced Zach does. It gives me hope, it really does. And he is able to pull together a group of talented musicians that are obviously enjoying working with him.
4) Byronic hair - Don't believe me? Check this out. Ya, I know, not a good reason. But it adds to the romance don't you think?
5) Passionate audience - The key to this is passionate yet respectful... which in general they were.
6) Friends and family - and a birthday that didn't make me feel cranky about getting older
So - here is Nantes for your enjoyment!
And Mount Wroclai, filmed by my bro:
There are lots of other videos here as always. And before I forget - yay to Laura Barrett for getting the opening slot. The noisy Commodore not really the right venue for her quiet performance, but it was great to see the majority of the audience paying attention.
Saw The Kills at Richards this week. Unlike the Chan, I can video to my heart's content at Richards - but as you'll see if you bother watching the videos, or even from the still I pulled here, it was so dark it was pretty much like filming in a cave. So dark that the band actually asked to have the lights turned up half way through. The still, by the way, was taken AFTER the lights were turned up.
Not that the darkness was without purpose...or something like that. The edgey, prowl-y raw tension of the band works in the semi-dark. And therein lies one of the signs of true rock stardom...other signs?
2) Supermodels want to sleep with you -check. Kate Moss, she of impeccable taste in heroin-chic men, is now dating guitarist Jamie Hince, who from where I am sitting is a few notches up the ladder from Pete Doherty.
3) You are cool without effort - this is harder to quantify, but they are both just...cool...whatever that word means. When we showed up to line up outside the venue, they were hanging out smoking, on their way to go for a meal, and they just looked...naturally cool. This is a stark contrast to a large component of the audience, who were trying on the cool front. It's such a fine line. But you've either got it or you don't.
4)You can prowl on stage and not look like an idiot - check.
5) Your face is obscured by your hair - check.
6) Your songs are featured on teen-focussed TV shows - check (see Gossip Girl). This is, like, not always a good thing....
It was a really good night. And the opening act, White Lung, was worth listening to as well...and watching, not only because the lead singer is a dead ringer for my highschool pal Barb - in body/hair/outfit...scary. Welcome back, 1982.
Here's one video - more, as always, here. There are some White Lung videos as well for those interested. Next up: Beirut (yay!), the Breeders, and Dan Mangan at the Penthouse strip club if I can convince anyone to go with me...
*Update* My brother just loaded this one - a far better example of the night...
That statement, bizarrely, brought someone to this blog (welcome to Google Analytics). I have to admit, I read through the keyword searches that have landed people on my blog more out of a morbid curiosity about what people search on than anything. Some others:
things that freak me out (just incase they find someone else that shares their fears?)
little person (don't expect they were looking for a cat, which is what I was describing...)
big bust is also welcome (this statement is NOWHERE in this blog - honestly....)
golliwogs toilet (I'm not making this up)
haas double baked almond croissant (mmmmmm....)
pictures of green plaid couches (someone wanted pictures of green plaid couches?)
rub belly (again, I used this in reference to a cat. Honestly).
Welcome to the faux english country garden out front of the Bunkle (read: completely uncontrolled, unweeded, and not thought out). The crazy array of tulips is the result of a mixed bag of crazy tulips (wouldn't it be great if that was actually what they were called?) planted last fall. And despite the sudden overrun of bluebells, the tough as nails horsetails, and dandelions whose sunny faces mock me every time I look at the lawn, these guys are pretty breathtaking.
The Bunklelife review of Joe at the Chan (get a coffee)
The band - Last night was the fifth time I've seen Joe Jackson. And I swear, any opportunity I have to see him again I will take, because it is always stellar, always new. This time around, I loved the jazz-trio format (with his long time band mates Dave Houghton and Graham Maby) and the clean, warm sound the Chan allows. Great mix of new tracks from Rain and a selection of older work - and the old sounded new. I heard him interviewed on WXPN a couple of weeks ago and one question posed was how he manages to keep playing songs like I'm the Man almost 30 years later. His response - he keeps it bearable for himself by changing the arrangements as much as he can. And at the risk of sounding like a real concert review (yikes), his rearrangement of You can't get what you want (Til you know what you want) - a sparse, tense, teasing arrangement that had you (ok, me) waiting for the piano to kick in, which it did for the last few bars. I had a better description for all of that, but decided to put the PG version in instead. (And I should mention that this photo isn't one I took - and it's of the tour, but not the night...damn Chan Centre and their camera rules...)
Me: I love Joe Jackson. Really. Always have. It's a relationship that started in my teens - fortunately or unfortunately, one of the most memorable nights of my life happened to involve seeing Joe at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre back in the 80s, along with 1) losing the heel of my shoe; 2) getting ID'd at the restaurant, resulting in my date having a glass of milk with his caesar salad; and 3) having my parents roll out of bed at about 1am because the 70s station wagon that dropped me of was firmly stuck in the ditch outside the house. But enough of that. The highlight of the night was really Joe. And over the years, my respect for his creative capacity has grown and grown. In my mental filing box of musicians, he and Elvis Costello are filed in the same drawer. Both have an amazingly diverse bodies of work - from chamber music to classical to jazz to some of the best and most unusual collaborations I've heard, these two just get more and more interesting. I am sort of tempted to throw Bowie in there as well (though his body of work is more unique than diverse...?), but he lost points when he got the face lift and new teeth. You can't just change your head like that.
Now, some may think Joe has changed his head. Certainly, he has ended up with a very distinctive look over time .... some might say - well, no, I'll let you judge (cue Twilight Zone music):
Filming of the night was compromised by the camera police at the great seating/great sounding Chan Centre. Now, don't get me wrong - I can respect that. Reluctantly. So I didn't bring my camera, so I would avoid the inevitable temptation. My brother did bring his - a little vertical Canon with an adjustable LCD screen and small silver lens - which he finally had the courage to sneak out at the end of the show, held under his jacket with the lens projecting like a big silver nipple. What was caught on camera: a good sounding but not ideally framed of Is she really going out with him?"(the little white blip is Joe's head, honestly....)and this short clip of the man himself exiting the stage.
All the cheering is me. Really. Which brings me to The Audience. Generally well behaved, but apparently this particular group all had really teeny bladders. Either that or they were going to the bathrooms to snort coke, but based on the general demographic I'll guess not. Honestly, go before you sit down, because YOU'RE DISTRACTING when you shuffle in and out across the aisles. Sheesh.
These days, you mention Joe Jackson to anyone under 35 and at best you might get a brow furrow like they are trying hard to remember something from the dark ages. It's too bad - I think his best stuff has been missed by many, or dismissed because it falls outside the comfortable, witty pop he is known for. Heaven & Hell, his foray into the quasi-classical realm, remains one of my favorite albums, but I sometimes wonder if I'm the only one that bought it. Oh well. (And for the pal who I know will read this that can't stand Rain ... well, I didn't like Dream Girls so ....)
I will have more to say soon I am sure - but in the interim I am posting some of this week's photos. And I have no idea how to align text and photos - I don't get it. If anyone does, let me know. Argh.
First, Mr. Fuzzyhead rolling on his new carpet ( a new favorite activity)
Second, the massive cherry tree planted way to close to the foundations of the house (boo), which is flowering (yay!) - I will be booing again when it starts dropping fruit in the yard...
Went to Hardstock at the Commodore last night, a benefit for Vancouver musician/producer Scott Harding (aka Scotty Hard). I can't say I know Scott, though I met him 20 odd years ago through the musician I was dating at the time who had good friends in the Jazzmanian Devils - everyone seemed to know/play with everyone back then, and I have to admit I look back on that chunk of time with serious warm-fuzzies - the musical community I had the good fortune to be tangentially associated with was filled with incredibly nice, insanely funny guys, who were unusually accepting of the girlfriend-hangers-on like myself.
30 second summary of why the benefit happened - mid February this year, the cab Scott was in was hit at high speed by another vehicle, resulting in a spinal injury for Scott that has left him paralyzed from the chest down. Scott lives in New York now, and doesn't have medical insurance. So, the bills are rolling in and his music buddies are doing what they can to bring some much needed cash Scott's way.
The Bands A super crazy collection of Vancouver blasts from the past and those that keep on trucking along... I Braineater (pictured), Go Four 3 (pictured), The Furies, The Pointed Sticks, The Jazzmanian Devils, Kinnie Starr; John Mann (Spirit of the West), Paul Hyde (The Payolas), Neil Osborne (54-40), Barney Bentall, who rolled themselves into the ad-hoc group of the night, The Hard Ones...it goes on. And on. I am uploading a whack of videos here over the next while for those interested/with too much time on their hands. But overall it was a real treat. There were some less than ideal moments, particularly Kinnie Starr - nothing wrong with her performance, but her quiet, singer-songwriter self is not well served by the way too noisy and large Commodore unfortunately. It also wasn't fair to put her on after the bouncy loud mass of the Hardrock Miners. Ahhh well.
Highlights for me: John Mann and his crazy-dancing red-headed son Harlan, who played drums during Mann's set and provided more than a little visual stimulus during the Hard One's performance - good on you, young 'un; The Pointed Sticks, who manage to bring my teenage self back to me even if I really don't want her back; and the Hard Ones, just because it is great to see great musicians together having fun. And purely because I had a crush on his young, alternative black-haired self back in the 80s: I, Braineater. Oh, and Neil Osborne, because I had a crush on his young, alternative, stringy-brown-haired self back then (prompted in part by a bit of graffiti referencing him in a very positive way scrawled in the girls washroom at the Savoy back in the day) and continue to do so now if I'm completely honest.
The Audience They came out in good number, which is the main thing. Not sure that it was sold out, but it was certainly well attended. That being said, they were chatting-noisy (drives me crazy) and not showing quite as much love as they could from the floor, but who am I to judge as I sit in my chair on the balcony. Audience member of the night: idiot who asked to sit at our table who started heckling Scott Harding's brother as he was talking from the stage about Scott's situation. For the love of everything holy, let the man SPEAK and consider yourself lucky that no one you love is in that situation.
That's it for now I guess. If anyone is interested in contributing to the Scotty Hard Trust, here's the link.
And here are the Hard Ones, with John and Harlan Mann (a family that flails together, stays together?), Barney Bentall, Paul Hyde and more - enjoy!
Finally, another music post - I know I said I'd post more on the Black Keys/Black Mountain weekend, but I didn't, and it's too far gone now. I don't suspect many of you are that disappointed...
But last night is fresh enough to talk about - Daniel Johnston at Richards on Richards. I was first introduced to Daniel Johnston's music when I saw The Devil and Daniel Johnston at TIFF in 2005. I have mixed feelings about how my impression of a musician is affected by films like this (or DIG! for the Brian Jonestown Massacre, which seems to have made Anton Newcombe into a figure to bait not listen to) - you go into the situation with some strong preconceptions, it's inevitable - that being said, I think some of the context it provides is valuable. And it is an excellent film. My two second backgrounder on Johnston is that he is a severely bipolar guy growing up in a conservative Christian household. He's had some very rough times as a result of his condition, but has managed to be a prolific songwriter, beloved by many better knowns from Bowie to Kurt Cobain.
Enough boring factual stuff. Sorry.
So, we lined up early as per usual. A guy who was obviously a traveller asked us whether it was going to be a show worth going to - he'd heard it was "folk". How do you even start to describe Daniel Johnston? And who wants the responsibility of recommending what is going to be an experience that will definitely not be to everyone's taste?
So here we go - the Bunklelife Review: 1) The Opener: Holy crap! (not the opener, my reaction....) The opener was Ford Pier, a Vancouver guy I am completely unfamiliar with, though he has apparently been around for awhile. And he rolls out on stage in his tapered 90s suit pants, pleasant gray shirt, lace up oxfords, looking very much like the sales guy down the hall from you at work. Or the pleasant-seeming guy you meet online. And then he started to perform, and I got scared. Quickly. It was the line about "drinking the musky blood/drinking the bloody musk" that had me going. Mind warping contrast of pleasant-joe visual and run-screaming lyrics - if he'd looked edgier, it wouldn't have been nearly so disturbing. I included the second blurry photo here because I feel that it may just be a genuine image of the pointy eared demon inside this candy coated exterior.
Daniel Johnston: The man himself, decked out in a self designed t-shirt, track pants, and bright white kicks, walked on stage to huge cheers from the crowd. He is a large guy now, and has some serious shakes, wouldn't be surprised if both were a result of the meds he is on. He played guitar himself for the first song, then had a guitarist, and eventually a full band, backing him up. And it was delightful - the strength of his ability as a pop song writer shone through. And it is hard not to be moved by it all - not to be sentimental, but the challenges of his situation is so apparent, and the lyrics so personal, that you can't help but be affected. Or maybe you can. But I can't.
The audience: Hats off to you audience. I know how noisy Richards can be if people are chatting, and the audience was being so attentive and respectful. Thank you, thank you. That being said, man were there a lot of people who put a whole lot of effort into looking alt-cool-unkempt there. Maybe I did that at one point when I was that age too. No, wait a minute, I was alt-cool-KEMPT, a completely different thing...ok, that's a lie... and it's no less time consuming.
Anyway, that's it for now. This Friday brings Hardstock, a fundraiser for Scott Harding featuring my youth. Pretty much. Or at least the bands I was listening to/hanging around with. Should be interesting.
To cut to the chase, those things would be 1) Shriners, particularly when they are driving tiny cars, and 2) tulips, when you get 1000s of them together. This is a new realization, but the shriner thing is old news.
My pal Ana and I went for an overnight jaunt to Washington - day one a 9+ hour outlet mall extravaganza, day two a more relaxing (but no less surreal) investigation of the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival. We wandered around Laconner for a bit first, stopping at the fantastic Dulce Plate for lunch, and the mind/tastebud blowing Olive Shoppe. On the way back to the car, we ran into some sort of crazy tulip fest parade - and more importantly, these guys....
Now, maybe it's just me, but a grown man in a tiny car wearing a bejeweled fez is the thing of nightmares. Some people find clowns creepy. Me? Shriners.
Next stop was Tulip Town, AKA the Skagit Valley Bulb Farm. And yes, there were a few tulips. Really, it was a tulip takeover. Bizarre. And beautiful, in a surreal sugary way. I will be uploading more photos (both shriners and tulips) here soon.
There was some sad news earlier this week – my pal Anne’s beloved old mare Winnie passed away. She’s not my horse, but I’ve known her for as long as I’ve known Anne - somewhere around 18 years - and she was really quite remarkable, as horses go. Largely Thoroughbred with a smattering of (fairly apparent) Clydesdale thrown in for good measure, she was certainly not what you’d call delicate. And that Clyde blood made her a pretty bouncy ride at times. I am going through my photos trying to find a snap of her for the blog, but I realized that since I went “digital” most of my shots are of the revolving door of "younger, prettier, flashier" horses that Anne has bred over the years – a herd in some ways you could consider a result of Winnie, as Winnie couldn’t hold a foal to term…which meant that Anne had a stud fee paid for that she needed to use on another horse, which meant acquiring another horse, and so the herd started. Really, it’s all Winnie’s fault ;) And it was in part because Winnie was the “constant” that I don’t have more photos of her. You just expect her to be there.
I remember hacking her on the road when a couple of big dogs came running and barking out of nowhere, I just about jumped out of the saddle but Winnie just flicked an ear and marched solidly along, confident that she could take them out with the flick of a hoof I’m sure. And that was her nature. She seemed to have the ability to assess things with a great deal more reason than most, apparently including me. As Anne says, she only stopped at a jump if she wasn’t sure she could take it safely. And if Anne fell off as a result, Winnie would just stop and wait, slightly confused as to why Anne wasn’t still on her. And that sense of reason – or responsibility? – spilled over to the barn as well. She was the babysitter and “manners coach” for a slew of foals who had mothers far less…sensible…that Winnie. It will be interesting (and a bit daunting) to see how any future babies turn out without her influence.
Her age was starting to show – her teeth had worn to the point that eating was a challenge, and she was having a harder time keeping her weight up (never an issue in her earlier years, that’s for sure). She ended up with an infection, and then colic, which she didn’t recover from. This sort of thing isn’t completely unexpected – she was in her 30s, which is OLD for a horse – but it doesn’t make it easy.
Very appropriately, she is buried on the farm now, in the field near the rest of her herd - close enough for her to keep an eye on things - particularly those troublesome youngsters - of that I am sure.
Went to Jose Gonzalez last week at St. Andrews church. Got there early enough to have our choice of pews, and decided to try pew 3 not pew 2. A good idea, except pew 2 was left open for an Australian Gigantor about 6'5" tall. Dat'll learn me to be cocky about my seating...and I know he can't do anything about being a foot taller than me. And judging by his shifting around I think his discomfort at being crammed into tight pew seating was greater than mine at being blocked by the night's largest human. Adding colour to pew 2 was Bono - I mean, one of those celebrity impersonators trying to be Bono. Or some guy from northern england who isn't a celebrity impersonator who just happens to ensure he looks like Bono, which is closer to the truth I think, and weirdly, more confounding. Ahhh, I am such a b*tch sometimes (or a certain someone I'm related to might say, shallow as a piece of paper). But unlike Gigantor, you can do something about looking like Bono. There's no excuse.
ANYWAY - the security stiffs were being quite nasty at the door - we got through fine, but others had cameras taken. So, being on the aisle, close to the front, I felt pretty exposed. As a result, not many videos. And the ones taken were taken when the security guy left his seat, and with my camera on my chest, hence the wandering frame...sad, sad. I post the video primarily because the wandering frame makes me laugh. The bass is a bit muffled, I'm guessing some part of my hand/body was interfering with the speaker. Oh well, you can't win them all.
No complaints about the show - audience was quiet (better than at Richards), and Jose et al were great. One thing I noticed this time that I didn't notice at Hawksley was the effect of the space on the sound. We were very close to the front in the centre, and the monitors were flown quite wide at the sides of the stage, so you could hear the sound bouncing in the vaulting in the church. Hawksley had center monitors too which helped that issue. For me though the good view (even with Gigantor) outweighed the slightly imperfect sound.
This is Black weekend - Black Mountain tonight, Black Keys tomorrow, total exhaustion Monday.
And in other good news - Les Savy Fav is coming back in July, this time to the Commodore. Too bad it's not Richards again, but I'll take what I can get!!
So this week brought Hawksley Workman to St. Andrews Wesley Church in Vancouver.
Understand that I am a huge Hawksley fan. Huge. And I'm at my hugest huge fan-ness when he plays in a quiet, seated venue. Like a church. And even more so when we are lucky enough to score second row - I mean, second pew - seating. Luckily I'm on the HW mailing list, and was given the opportunity to buy tickets through his website - which meant preferred seating. And a very happy me.
Now, I've spoken about my Hawksley love previously. No need really to do so again here. Or to give a detailed review - this review of the Ottawa show gives a good enough summary of the experience. And I've posted a number of videos here for those that want to experience it second hand. So what to say, what to say.....
What I didn't love: Having to be a paranoid camera sneaker (as in "someone who sneaks", not a running shoe). In the second row, 6 feet from the stage, on the centre aisle, me and my beloved camera were pretty exposed. And we were told upon entering that there was to be no photography in the church. But how could I NOT take photographs? So, I snuck a few at first - including my favorite of the night, the close up headshot I've posted here - probably my best shot yet, and a total fluke (as all my photos are). And then I tried to video without being seen - so I held my camera pretty much to my chest, completely unable to see the view screen on the back. Which is why, on the video I've posted, the beginning bit has some pretty funny framing (why do we need to see all his head anyway?..). And was also the reason my hands started to cramp. And was also the reason I (stupidly) held my camera sideways for part of the night...which subsequently is why I spent about 5 hours fussing and internet searching until i found a way to successfully rotate and post my mpg files (THANK YOU to the developer of Mpeg Streamclip - excellent freeware!!).
I also didn't love that my brother couldn't come as he was felled by a virulent plague that is passing through the city right now. Really not at all fair.
What I did love: Apart from the obvious? The audience. Really, you guys were SO well behaved. Quiet, quiet, quiet. I guess we are all programmed to be quiet in church. But I also think that it is a credit to Hawksley's ability to hold an audience as well. I love his meandering, funny, odd stories almost as much as I love the music, and obviously I wasn't alone.
So, after my slight uneasiness with his last CD, my faith in Hawksley has been restored. Of course, I wanted MORE - more old songs, more more more more. But I'm a Hawksley glutton; so I will just have to wait, patiently, for more. Next time.
On Thursday morning, Chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player. Boatswain's mate. I thought he was asleep. I reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up, down in the water just like a kinda top. Upended. Well, he'd been bitten in half below the waist.
Welcome to one of my guilty pleasures.
Yes - that's right.
Jaws.
The cats and I watched for a bit. Mags hid her head on my lap (some would say she was just stretching, but I don't believe it), and I don't blame her. I actually videoed a small chunk of it but for some reason I can't upload it here so you are spared. But anyway...there is something about it that makes me smile and be a tiny bit freaked out no matter how many times I see it.
It is the archetype that all other "monster" movies look to (finally, they had something to look to other than Godzilla) - but this one seemed that must more real, that much more plausible than so many that came after it (Anaconda anyone?) The ocean is such a wonderful freaky otherworld, and this film does such a great job of showing how completely out of place we are in it (or rather, on it I guess). My read every Peter Benchley novel my 12 year old self could get my hands on after this. And people may laugh at the stiff movements of "bruce" the mechanical shark, but something about it feels much more real than any CGI I've seen so far.
Really not feeling in the blogging mood right now, so I'll let some photos of the pot o'flowers I have out front do the talking. Next time I'll take snaps of some of the garden bulbs - some mini-dafs are about to pop any day now.
One more month, give or take a week, and the cherry trees will be out again.
Anyone new to Bunklelife concert reviews might want to read this before continuing.
So, went to the New York Dolls at the Plaza club last night, perched right at the front of the balcony approximately 10 feet from the flown speakers (which accounts for the buzzing swan song of hearing death happening in my left ear, which for no logical reason I didn't put an ear plug in). We are the Fury opened up - their name was written on the kick drum, but from my angle I couldn't see the last word so spent the first half of their set wondering if their name was "We are the Fort", and thinking that is actually a pretty cool name for a band. I was a bit disappointed when I found out I was wrong. Fury is just so obvious. Anyway, they did their best to roll about 5 different glammy rocky posey trexrollingstonesdavidbowiesweet kinds of bands into one, and apart from finding that all a bit distracting I'll give them good marks for effort. And for spending so much time practicing the Mick Jagger back-arch pose. Video here.
New York Dolls were great. I find David Johansen infinitely entertaining - I think some of his solo stuff is great, and he did one of the best covers of Brecht's Alabama Song that I've heard. I could watch him brush his teeth and be quite content, so having him stalk around the stage in his glitter-girl blue shirt makes me happy as a clam. It apparently made a whole lot of people happy - the floor was packed, and bouncing...OK, thowing themselves violently around, not bouncing. The audience member of the month this time was one of the most violent "bouncers", shirtless, wearing a white feather boa sash-like across his chest (it was so wet from sweat it wasn't going anywhere). You'll find him in the bottom right corner of the crowd shot.
I took a few videos, and many many photos. I got caught videoing by the scarey sound guy (mentioned under The Sound in this post), and was told still photos were allowed, but no videoing the band. Gotta say in this day and age, it surprises me no end that they try to put any controls on photos or videos at this kind of gig. Certainly, in a sit down venue where it could be distracting, I understand. But come on now...audience member videos (I would think) become one of the standard ways a band can - at no effort to themselves - market to a larger audience. Don't get it. Anyway, the video coppers didn't shut me down until I had a few videos already, and I'll be posting them, rebel that I am.
So - now the moment you've been waiting for: my Theory of Rock and Roll Genetics. It seems to me that there is a distinct physical type of rock star that blossomed in the 70s - extremely lean build, distinct nasolabial folds, big mouth (think: trout like), with an overriding tendency to prance instead of walk. Cases in point: David Johansen, Mick Jagger, Steven Tyler. What I find really interesting is that nature has found a way of weeding this particular physical type out by giving them the talent and ego necessary to be rock stars. As rock stars, they have access to females of the species that are near the very top of contemporary standards of physical beauty. They reproduce, and instead of ending up with mini prancing trouts, they end up producing beautiful offspring. Now, I am not sure if this goes for David Johansen - I don't know if he has children or not. But I think I'm onto something. Is he the last of a dying breed?
WARNING: this is entirely about cats and couches. Most will find it too boring for words.
So it's arrived - the new couch! In my eagerness to blog I haven't really staged the photo very well, but as you can see we've got quite a different beast in the house - more massive, and much more neutral. I think it's going to work.
Cat reaction has been reserved. Neither would come near it at first - Mags focus was to play like a crazy thing in the "cage" formed by my old couch, which is currently pushed up against the railing to downstairs. As I type this she is scrabbling around in there having as good a time as a cat can have on a couch.
Thom has acted with his usual caution. Some careful studying from a safe distance, followed by a touch of the tail against the side of the couch - that is as far as it's got at this point. Miss Mags walked along the window letting one paw touch the couch every now and then, then finally got brave enough to lie on it, and I think she's given it the OK, as you'll see from the video (once again, BOREDOM warning).
Oooh - breaking news - Thom is now sitting beside me on the new addition, and has rolled a couple of times, so I guess he's ok with it too. Even if I didn't take his advice on upholstery fabric.
Thanks for stopping by - though I am still not sure why anyone other than me would find my ramblings interesting :) Comments and questions are very very welcome!
You can also contact me at bunklelife-at-gmail.com
Today's challenge: writing about the Beirut concert this week without falling into a musical swoon. I'm actually thinking it's not possible, but here goes...
