Forgery League

Sean arrived home from India on Monday afternoon. Plenty of stories. First order of business (after the obvious) was grocery shopping, as I’d been scraping the bottom of the barrel. I don’t think I’ll ever eat barbecue sauce again.

Sean kept watching all the busy, harried li’l North Americans rush about, and whispering, “go! go! gotta make my meeting!” and “deadlines!” and “just a few more years! my life can wait!” with a mischievous grin.

Back at home: “I had the weirdest shit.” In paroxysms of gasping-for-breath laughter.

Curtains are coming! We’re having ‘em sewn at one of the two dozen little fabric shops around the corner on Queen. This neighbourhood does rock.

Julian and I played at a cabaret fundraiser last night (for an Environmental Studies student who’s canoeing to Tuktoyaktuk[!] as part of her Master’s). We actually went on ahead of schedule, proof that the gig was organized by non-musicicans. Good show! Did “Lullaby For Alice” which we haven’t done in ages.

I’ve been starting to work on my own songs again, too, and as usual the stuff I have in mind is inspired in large part by the artists I’m currently obsessing over. This time that means Rufus Wainwright and Sarah Slean, who both mix modern pop with a big dose of cabaret show-tuney sensibility. I’d love to write some stuff that’s as much fun to sing while flouncing around the apartment or on stage… something that merits a video like “Sweet Ones”. *suppresses surge of costume envy*