The wife, the kids, and I are in Toronto to celebrate the new year (Happy New Year!) and we’re staying with my sister, her husband, and her two kids. My mom is here, too. The house is too small for the ten of us. Elvi and I are sleeping on a futon, trapped between three screaming kids and an ice-cube maker that churns like something used to lay asphalt.
Given the situation, and the willing-to-babysit grandmother, Elvi and I decided to go out last night. A little Web research turned up some places that played ’80s music, so off we went.
Well, Funhaus was alternative, I suppose, but alternative in headbanging, hard-core Husker Du sort of way (i.e. not the good kind of Husker Du). We kept waiting for something with a melody, but we left unfulfilled. Bovine Sex Club (neither, in fact, bovine nor sex club) sounded promising when we first passed by. The DJ was playing the Monks. I thought I was the only one who ever did that. Nevertheless, by the time we gave up on Funhaus and headed back there, a crappy band had taken over.
We were left ’80s-less. I’m so discouraged by the evening that I’m not even going to bother putting links in the post.
On the bright side, I’m back to writing. I seem to have returned to “Sheep’s End” instead of moving forward with “By the Book”, but writing is writing. I may also have a legit film job in the works. I’ll be meeting with the producer next week. It won’t be script writing, but work is work, and any film work is a step forward.
Bonus Irrational League update:
I was in first for a little while, thanks to some unconscious pitching, but a few mediocre outings have dropped me back into third. There’s a week to go, and I find myself relying on a good performance from Odalis Perez, and that can’t be good.