For the first time since my birthday, we went clubbing last Friday. It was Dark Wave Nights' tenth anniversary celebration and, since I was there at the first night and at many a years afterwards, it was more than appropriate that I drop in so to speak. It was to be a short visit, since my girlfriend is very limited in what she can do and we had to use public transportation to go home.
How was the night? Its hard to tell. The place was packed early on and people kept coming in; we got there towards the end of Frigids' performance, and there was a cohort of belly dancers. That part was pretty much the best, especially for my girlfriend, who really wants to give it a go. Soon enough. One of the reasons that we had to leave early was that the one and only, the lovely, The Kate was coming home for an impromptu visit, and she was crashing our place. We luckily got it cleaned up on time.
Saturday, Kate gets here, we chatter and munch on some homemade tapas (by yours truly) and then head out for more substantial fare. Even if it was late, Montreal can always provide a nice meal; this time around, we went to a little hole-in-the-wall place on St-Denis, a Morrocan restaurant. The girlfriend was very happy about the seating arrangements, since she got to sprawl on a couch. The food was quite nice, wether it was the chicken pastilla or the lamb couscous. The wine was alright, it worked with the meal. Oddly enough, it turned out not to be the only alcoholized disappointment, as the Viognier that Kate brought was rather flat and tasteless. Oh well, it happens.
The Kate left early Sunday for other commitments and the day progressed as usual. Monday came and medical funtime with it; it was soooooooo much fun. Anyhoo, the medical establishment was true to itself and was pretty useless at helping, besides renewing the pain meds. Super. Got home and in touch with Kate. The girlfriend being incapacitated, I went and braved the cocktails and the goff music with only The Kate as my anchor. But we did well. Got a few drinks at a flair pub (read: they make up their own recipes cause that makes them cool) where we'll return, simply because they serve some of the drinks in two formats: glass and Mason Jar. And not the little jars, the big pickle ones. After downing a few, we get ourselves to the club for some grooves.
Its a newish place, a small venue that has many perks: its dedicated to the dark side, that is, punk and metal, which makes the goth night a simple addition; they serve nothing but good microbreweries beers, they had cider on tap and full pitchers at $9 on DJ nights; and its owned by the same people behind the defunct l'X, a anarchopunk venue that closed down under shady circumstances. The DJ finally makes his appearance, and its a good thing, cause we want to dance! So I go and tell him that The Kate is in town and she wants it bad. Be careful what you wish for they say... he got going and wouldn't stop. Death In June, Joy Division, Muslimgauze, Tear Garden, Coil... we would have begged for mercy, but we didn't really want it to stop. But stop it did when the clock struck three and out the door we were sent, like morbid Cinderellas.
After bidding The Kate goodbye, I walked all the way home (I was a bit energized, oddly enough) and crashed when I got home. The result? We now have a pub to return to, a club night to patronize, and The Kate is one more step closer to moving here. So I guess that the silver lining is on its way!
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