Yet another (yawn) weekend recap...

Well, another weekend, another round of typical hijinks.

Friday night found me at Dick's Last Resort in Fanueil Hall seeing a cover bands that some of my friends play in. The band was good, the sound terrible, the vibe dead, the beers too expensive. I only stayed for a set and a half.

After that, I tried out the Pour House, but it was also slow. So I opted to stop at Bukowski for a beer while I figured out what to do with the rest of my night. However, that ended up being the rest of my night, as they were simply playing too much good music for me to leave. Amorica followed by Exile on Main Street? Bartender, keep the Bellhaven's coming until i run out of money. (Which, although sounds kind of pathetic, was actually only 3 Bellhavens; I didn't go out with a lot of cash.)

Saturday, I went and watched the original The Hills Have Eyes with Matt and Stpehanie. Started out a little creppy then just got silly, even considering the "70's horror movie cheese factor". Some genre's just don't age as well. Horror movies from the 70's can have some undeniably good vibe, but inevitably cheesy 70's music or acting is going to intrude.

On the way home, fully intending to stop at one of the local shops to buy a calzone for dinner, Krista called. She and Danielle were going to Redbones, so my dinner plans changed. Because, well Redbones. Mmm, Lone Stars and brisket. Later that evening, I went over to Toast with Krista and her bevy of Emerson lovelies: Danielle, Laura, and Becki. Although I'd heard the name a bunch of times recently, Toast was totally not what I was expecting. The vibe was a Manray lite type deal in Union Square, the last place I'd expect to see it. Complete with self-absorbed goth style dancing. You know, that style where a dance floor full of people all look like they're dancing utterly alone. Anyway, my night there ended early, as chivalry called. Danielle, not feeling very well after a full day of alcohol---she was 24 hours removed from finishing grad school, you see---needed a ride back to Brighton. It was a small adventure as I didn't know where she lived, and in her state, neither did she. No joke. After we got in the general neighborhood, I pulled over where she indicated. She gets out of the car and immediately lies down on the sidewalk. Then I went home. Nah, just kidding. I get out, help her up.

"Which way," I ask.

She points vaguely down the street. We start stumbling---well, I was walking, she was stumbling, but the assisitng/half-carrying didn't do much for my balance---down the street. A few minutes in thid direction and she changes her mind. It's the other way. We start heading back the other way. She can't remember which house was hers. Finally I get a house number out of her. We make it there without any further incident. Now, I know she at least made it into the house, and at least heard her start climbing the stairs, but that's where my involvement in her evening ended. I'm hoping she at least made it to her bed and didn't spend an uncomfortable evening betweent he first and second floor.

Anyway, by this point, it's too late to go back to Toast. I've heard they stop letting people in at 1am, and it's 12:45 and I'm all the way across town. At any rate, a text message from Laura said they were taking Krista home anyway, as she was similarly drunk. So, close, to the Model, I ended my night there to little fanfare.

Sunday: Wait there's still weekend left? The day started with the typical "post too drunk last night Krista" text message: "Did you drive me home last night?" (This is not to say she gets drunk like that a lot, but on the occasions she does.) Anyway, it was a good enough alarm clock to get me out of bed and to a bowl of cereal. What to do with the day though? I have no plans until dinner, (which I will get to shortly.) I decide to head over to the local arthouse theater to catch Hard Candy.

In the day of Myspace pages, Craiglist dating, Google searching and such, hard Candy is a timely film about internet predators. With a twist, of course. It's timely, if not a particularly good film. All the reviews I've skimmed hint at the twists and turns of the film in a manner that suggest it is shocking. Which is why I only "skimmed" the reviews. I didn't want to know. Unfortunately, I already did know. You see, you can tell exactly what the twist is by the trailers. It's not really that secret.

But because of the nature of these reviews, I was expecting more. And I got less. I was also hoping for an Audition-like uncomfortableness. I don't know why, but I was, and that's an unfair expectation to put on a film, because most movies I don't think could match it.

Anyway, Hard Candy starts out with a really uncomforable vibe with a 28 year old photographer meets up with a 14 year old girl he had chatted with on the internet. being that you know what the film's supposed to be about, you spend the first 10-15 minutes being like, "Ewww." Even knowing where the film was going, this intro makes you feel uncomfortable.

However, soo enough, we get to the point where everything goes to hell, and oddly enough this is where the film starts to flounder. For one thing, it was a touch to talky. Too much exposition. Words explained much of everything. But film is a visual media, and "show, don't tell" should be a mantra embraced by every director, as far as I'm concerned.

The other problem was the relative lack of suspense, (with the exception of one surgical scene.) Mainly because there's never any doubt in who's going to come out on top in this film. Also, although they tried to establesh a gray area for this film to reside in, there was a los no question (at least in my mind) that it wasn't quite so gray. The secrets of this film were all sunny blue and crystal clear.

Oh, well. My disappointment in this film, however pales in comparison to the fact that the top grossing film of the weekend was RV. Are you fucking kidding of me? Having seen the commercials for this film, why would anyone go see it? Really, why?

Anyway, after the film, I came home and made some cornbread. For real. Beacuse dinner last night was at Krista and Joe's, and was pulled pork shoulder, collard greens, slaw, beans, pickles, and....corn bread. You can't have pulled pork with corn bread. I reckon it just ain't right. Anyway, let me just say, if you put a full pork shoulder in a smoker for about 10 hours, it comes out pretty damn delicious. So, food was eaten, bellies distended, tequilla worms and scorpions were swallowed (although not by me as I was abstaining from the sauce last night.)

Finally, I went home feeling down for some reason. So I sat in my room, intending to play some guitar. Maybe put on some depressing songs and solo over them. Lit some candles, got all vibey, plugged in, and the promptly wrote a sort of Wolfmother-esque silly but awesome sex romp. For those of you who don't know Wolfmother (which is probably all of you), I liken them to Black Sabbath meets Queens of the Stone Age, with a smattering maybe of Led Zeppelin. Kind of doomy/desert/stoner rock, I guess. It's not a genre I'm overly familiar with, although I do dig the Wolfmother stuff. So the fact that I wrote something along those lines was completely unexpected. In an effort to not overthink it, I'm considering the music done. And the lyrics are slightly more than half written. I need to finish up the second verse and it'll be complete. If I can get them finished (hopefully today), I'm hoping to start demoing it this week, because I want it to remain raw and....immediate?...and not too overthought.

Sex romp. Awesome.