Thursday, July 27, 2006

Music, Bat Killer

Note: People who have small babies should read this post knowing I understand that there are at least two tiers of tired, one the result of being responsible for tiny humans and one the result of being too irresponsible to go to bed at a decent time.

As predicted, it’s taken the better part of the week to recover from last weekend. Except I’ve only partially recovered.

Last night I felt *old*. Went to the Sunset Rubdown show and had just a terrible time. Even with a nap, I was a little worn out before I went, but I’d already bought the ticket and wasn’t going to waste it. Especially since I didn’t manage to get tickets to Wolf Parade, and am relying on my wiles to convince a certain person that he should get me in.

Anyway, Sunset Rubdown. As the Poets Affirm opened up, and they were good. Busy, kaleidoscopic, but engaging. The guys behind me had a very funny and lengthy debate about whether ATPA had played 3 long songs or 6 short ones. I felt like turning around and saying “Depends on your definition of song.” The sound was okay but not great. I was uncomfortable because I was over-dressed, and the intermediate yoga of the day before was catching up with me. Nothing like sore hips to make you feel ancient.

Things went downhill from there. I got more and more sore, more and more overheated. Sunset Rubdown didn’t go on till 10:20, about 40 minutes after ATPA finished. Too long. And then the sound was shitty. Really shitty. It is the first time I have ever thought “The vocals are too loud in the mix” at a rock show. But that was only when the bass wasn’t making everything sound like porridge. The singer of SR was visibly frustrated and the band didn’t seem to be having a good time.

They played well. It might have been a good show. I left after 5 songs.

The good thing about leaving early is that I got home early and to sleep by 11.30. And then woke up at 3.30 to the echolocationary squeaks of a bat in my house. I listened to those squeaks for a long time, wondering why the bat outside my open window didn’t just go away and stop annoying me.

From now on, I am leaving my glasses on my bedside table. And I may start wearing pyjamas. Because pawing around your house sightless and naked gives the bat a definite advantage.

What does not give the bat a definite advantage: killer cat. By the time I’d gotten my robe and specs on, Freya was standing victorious over the wee mammal, sniffing it hungrily. Poor bat. Poor Freya when I took her prize away from her.

I got back to bed, with racing heart, around 3:50 am, calmed down enough to sleep around 4:30 and woke up several times at very small sounds for the next 3 hours.

The purple smudges under my eyes have become streaks.

Right now I’m sitting in my office with the dead bat in a tupperware container beside my desk, waiting for a doctor from the Canadian Food Inspection Agency to come and take the bat away for rabies testing. I suppose bats are food for something.

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