|Pic is not mine.|
Because we're hardcore, after dinner, we ran through the rain down to Bar Open for GUITARELAY. It seems like in previous years the idea was one person did a bit of improv, was joined by another person, and then left the stage to be replaced by the next guitar and so on. You know, a relay. Last night they had the technical capacity for 17 guitars to be on at once, so they pretty much just said 'go', and let the noise commence. Alas, it was less free-improv tag-team, more drone-fest 2000. Lots of two-chord pedal-looping and not nearly enough collaborative baton-passing. Pretty much a case of biggest amp wins. Sigh. Still, it was good to see G again, and despite (or maybe because of) the lack of imagination of most of the musicians there, it was easy to hear his scratchy noises above the clamour.
We snuck home to feed the kid and go to bed, and then remembered that the homosexual handyman* was coming at 8 this morning to paint the bathroom. Oy. Nothing like emptying a room into the corridor and removing all traces of the kitten at 11pm the night before school goes back. But it's done now. Shoddy paint job covering up the mould and a house full of fumes. Hooray, renting! Free chroming high! Ack. I have a headache. Time to lie down.
* I say this in the best possible way. He is all pink polo shirt and diamond studs with his ladder and spanners and overalls. For realz. Hilarious.