bikram rock show

I am currently waging a war with my rascally brain chemicals that just can't seem to pick a mood and go with it. Is it too much to ask to feel the same way about anything for more than 24 hours at a time? This past weekend was jampacked with excitement, the internet boyfriend will be here this coming weekend, and progress is being made in My Current Life Plan, or, more appropriately, My Current What To Do For The Next Nine Months Or So Plan. Yet the ol' grey cloud has crept back into my head and I can't think about anything in a positive way. So I'm going to blame the craziness on my recent change of anti-baby pills, spend some quality time this week on spinning bikes and in tanning booths, and write about the good stuff.

The weekend started off with a great but not awesome Interpol show (nice to see you again, Mr. Bowie, though if you really want to be down with the kids you might rethink wearing khaki pants to a concert, but then again you can do whatever the fuck you want and be cool,) a midnight meal at the bar at Cafe Luxembourg while literally bumping elbows with Liam Neeson as he sipped a glass of red wine with ice in it (the weekend celebrity runins have moved up a few letters of the alphabet!) and a crazy series of prank phone calls by which Perplexa and I were both, um, perlexed.

The next day E and I drove up to her new home in Ithaca, because I had yet to experience the oh-so-crazy law school "party" scene, and because my favorite band since my last favorite band was playing a show. A whole awful lot has been said about The Arcade Fire in everyone and their great uncle's blog and even the superhip New York Times, but, I must say, the hype is warranted. Or maybe I just really like energetic Canadians who sing about upsetting things in a way that makes life not seem so bad and, in the process, throw in some accordion, cello, and xylophone action while hitting each other with drum sticks. In any case, their music is weird and complex and pretty and I can't stop listening to it.

The show took place in a tiny cafeteria-type room that was at least 100 degrees Fahrenheit in which kids were packed together in a sweaty, jumping, fist-pumping mass. But despite the the fact that we'd all soaked through several layers of clothing, the acoustics sucked, and the band's keyboard stopped working, it was one of my top five concerts of all time. The next morning, the 20+ person band posse was having brunch in the same little hippy dippy cafe as E, her very cool friend, and I were, and I made the requisite ass of myself by going up to the girl singer (on whom I have a major girl-crush) and having the following deep conversation: "I really loved your show last night!" "Oh thanks! Thank you very much!" "Okay, um, bye!" At least I wasn't sporting my Arcade Fire t-shirt at the time (I really needed a change of clothing after the show. And it glows in the dark. Anyway.)

So yeah, the weekend was fantastic, and this coming weekend should be good too, provided I can prevent myself from going insane in the presence of a guy who really actually likes me a lot. And I may have found a nice neurologist from Lebanon to sublet my apartment for a few months, so my fantasy Wisco retreat is looking more and more like a solid plan. It'll be just like the summer vacations of my childhood, minus the summer school that I used to take for fun, the lack of a driver's license, and the totally overrated ability to go outside for more than five minutes at a time.