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That was a birthday, that was. Smeared over several days like the sticky black lipstick I slathered onto my own deathly head for Hallowe'en. The specs giving the Angel of Death a scholarly, slightly bureaucratic look, as befit an assistant to the Devil, performed during the matinee by lemon_pickle.

Impromptu Samhain ritual up at the reservoir with the aforementioned antichrist (I'd washed my face but wore my sparkly horns). Great venue, a sort of concrete grid/labyrinth path surrounded by trees and gloom. (This useful mystery was accented by my nearly desperate need for new specs.)

A perplexing journey this year. Hell was involved, which I suppose makes sense given the whole (a)isle of the dead thing, and the horns.

Friday was the birthday itself. Quietly pleasing. Class in the morning, then working obsessively on my essay proposal, then quite good talk, I thought, with the Shakespeare prof, about the essay and about grad school and university in general.

Friday night Jennifer's concert. Every time I hear them play, they've deepened the arrangements. This time a violinist joined them, and added a richness to "Blueberry" that we didn't even know it could have.

Jennifer played a new song she'd just written, which she said she never does. It was lovely, and she dedicated it to me for my birthday. inlandsea, you see, was home sick, but she called ahead to ensure I'd be suitably birthday-embarrassed. (She also drove us there!)

stitchinmyside, crackerjacq, kainhighwind_dr, and the fabulous A. (who I believe is LJ-less) at our table, much laden with vegan chocolate brownies, while chromemagpie circulated between variosu tabular commitments, and Jennifer's essential K. sat next table over. I was delegated to take photos, which was a grave error in judgement. I mean to send Jennifer a little sketch I made of the band by way of compensation.

Saturday was defined by brunch. The plan for oaten toast and homemade jam was thrown off a bit by Avalon's being closed. Floyd's gave us coffee in line (bonus) but was too noisy. They were busy, and warned us in advance that the food would be slow. It took so long that at one point we were all sitting around the table eating out of the peanut butter packets. (well, many of us were. Some stuck to coffee.) However, inlandsea, stitchinmyside, argus_in_tights, geniusoutlaws, and the sterling Z scintillated even under the trying circumstances. I was a bit groggy and uncommunicative. Fortunately, other people know how to talk.

Then sleep, which improved my personality immensely. Then the In(ter)ventions reading at the Solstice Cafe, where I worked on the new night poem and entirely failed to mingle. Okay, no, I talked to two people. The best bit was afterwards, sitting crosswise in an armchair just behind the wooden tables they'd drawn together, listening to the writers have an impromptu round table about genre.

stitchinmyside picked me up after the reading. Hunger carried us to Sushi Rock, where the sushi comes 'round on a mechanical train and the bluegrass band sings about sake. Good fun, greasy tempura, heaps of bright red octopi entangled like skinless lovers.

Then the Wintersleep concert. Wooden Stars opening. It was all solid -- the Wooden Stars were vocals a bit low maybe -- and Wintersleep had a lot of energy -- more driving than the recordings I've heard. "Weighty Ghost", played a little faster and harder than on the album, was almost anthemic. However, the dance floor was so packed and so stifling that we both felt almost sick. For bar crowd delights, I had yelly guys behind me, and stitchinmyside had a drunk gropy woman next door.

We are resolved to try the next size up of venue and see how it provides.

Today is my day of research and recovery, though inlandsea and I did manage to work in a visit to a swap meet (I got some very odd little dolls) and lunch at Pure Vanilla.

I was a bit crochety all weekend. I'm afraid I may be straying from this world into the Land of the Not Entirely Well.

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