stag

Lat night was Andrew Withycombe's so-called buck's night, because he is marrying Katrina next Saturday. Of course, even to call such a thing a buck's night is to wallow deep in kiddin' yourself shit, because Andrew Withycombe and buck's night is like Jesus and kristallnacht. Less likely, actually. What happened was a small group of middle-aged Friends of Andrew assembled at a reasonably priced indian restaurant in Brunswick and ate quite well and pretended they could hear each other. I always enjoy Andrew's company and was very interested to hear about his progress on his honours thesis. I think his temperament is much more suited for an academic career than mine, but it seems unlikely that this is where he will end up (at this point; but ten years ago who would have thought of him doing an arts degree? So...)

There was a man at the other table who laughed like a gargling saw, or perhaps he was starting something up that was powered by two-stroke. Again and again.

We then adjourned to the East where the shittest blues band ever were playing in the front bar, a five-string bassist who was all thumbs, they had a song called 'Voodoo'. Very poor. Then I went to Francesca's house, where I had been invited to drop in apres stag since I was not able to make the dinner that was happening there, but all was quiet so I figured either they were all kissing or they were absent/sleeping/not to be disturbed. And so I went to the Pony and saw Panel of Judges play what struck me as an absolutely stunning set. Congratulations all.

This morning I went with my mother to Coburg trash 'n' treasure market and only bought two things: a 'jumbo' tin that had once contained icecream and which was $2, and a CD of Madonna's first album, called on this release, Madonna's First Album, for $2. There were many things I could have also almost bought but thankfully didn't. They will soon recede from my memory so I won't dredge them up here.

Might go to Dave Graney/Clare Moore show tonight.