more mouse

ew. we found another mouse-hole last night thanks to an ill-timed run for it by a furry squeaker. from the looks of it it's been there for years.

gross. gross. gross.

There's just something irresponsible about building a pantry with floorboards that don't quite reach the walls. it's like an invitation on the part of the house. "c'mon in, eat the people food!"

We had a chat last night about what animals would not want to live in a people-house and eat people-food. The only ones we could come up with were large herd-animals like cattle and gazelles. Bears in particular would love to live in people-houses, and eat people-food, and eat people.

On the up side, last night we avoided the rodents by heading uptown to the Luminaire where we enjoyed the folk musical stylings of Spiers and Boden, of Bellowhead. Who knew a fiddle, an accordion, and a couple of feet could create such complex and beautiful tunes? I always assumed on their albums that there were other instruments contributing, but nope. What I mistook for a bass was an accordion, and drumming was done by stamping on a box. Nice.

It would have been the perfect evening out if it hadn't been for the presence of the Maths Club Alumni* in the audience--five or six middle aged shut-ins wearing t-shirts printed with song lyrics shouting random comments, whooping and singing along in the perfectly tone-deaf style of the offensively loud. I'm always astonished when I see groups of people with no social skills--how did they get to be friends in the first place? This cluster also succeeded in clapping along with such poor rhythm as to confuse and exhaust the players, which I found frustrating.

To Misters Spiers and Boden, I wish to apologise for not elbowing them in the face. I'm just too nice. If they come along again please feel free to chuck a brick. We'll all applaud.

(After the show, as the performers were packing away their antique instruments and crew were coiling cable, Captain Awkward Obnoxious made a beeline for the stage and could be heard asking, "so when do I get to meet Les Artistes? You're not going to stop me!" I hope nothing was broken in the rush to get away from him.)

To any interested party, The Luminaire's webpage hosts the most enjoyable Frequently Asked Questions (and Seldom Asked Questions) of any business I've ever encountered. The walls of the venue, similarly, are a delight to read, both in the house and in the ladies' room. (I've heard the men's room is likewise enjoyable, but can't personally vouch for it.) The atria of the restrooms in particular boast a remarkable archive: white lx tape, crammed with sound configurations from past shows, peeled off of audio desks after gigs and re-stuck over the doors.

In other news, my practice group put on a piece of theatre on Wednesday evening.
That is all.


*I don't actually know if these people were ever in a maths club, but it seems likely. It also seems likely that several, if not all, express traits in the Autistic spectrum. While I do feel some pity for these people's lives and the difficulty of their mental states, it still pisses me off that they chose my concert to ruin. It also disappoints me that folk musicians are too nice and patient to ever chuck a bottle at them.