| [ |
mood |
| |
not complaining! |
] |
Cottage Week was actually Cottage Three Days for me this year, what with Work. (I keep going back and forth on whether I want to refer to my place of employment as The Hyperion or The Dragonfly. Similarities exist either way.) But since the three days I could be at the beach were the best days, weather-wise, of the whole week, that worked out just fine.
And I got a tiny bit of a tan, which means I've finally found sunscreen that prevents my whole Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200, Go Directly To Lobster problem. Woo!
*~*~*
My cousin's in a band. (Hee! It's fun being able to say that. *g*) They were in a battle of the bands Friday evening; I attended with the sister and our Aunt and Uncle, who I must say are remarkably blase about their seventeen year old son's status as a Nascent Punk Rock God. (Not that Cousin E gets up to anything untoward--at least, given that he's A Good Kid, I assume he doesn't. *eyeballs him*) This was the first opportunity I'd had to hear the band (again due to Work, I haven't been able to attend any of their previous gigs); I was pleasantly entertained by the music, as well as tickled to note the difference between Cousin E's on- and off-stage personalities. The boy is Talented. ( jeneva1 says he does something with his hands on-stage that I do in everyday conversation, thus proving that we are related. I was watching for this shared gesture, but didn't see it, which just means I shall have to attend more of Cousin E's gigs. :)
Most of the other bands were less than impressive (various combinations of youth, lack of on-stage experience, technical difficulties and lacklustre music), but there was one extreme standout: a screamo group, the members of which are classmates of Cousin E and his older sister, Cousin C. Technically proficient, comfortable as performers, musically strong (don't hate me, screamo devotees, but when it comes to that particular genre, I have trained myself [aided by the local rock station's love affair with Alexisonfire] to listen to everything but the vocals, which--given that I am, to a certain extent, a fan of Wall Of Sound music--works pretty well); if I put aside my I'm-Related-To-A-Rock-God bias, I have to admit they were the best band of the bunch.
Cousin E's band was a totally close second, though. (And there really is objective reasoning in that assessment. Most of the other groups were listless.)
*~*~*
And now, the fannish lead I've just buried under all that Real Life rambling: the venue for the battle of the bands was two doors down from the local comicbook store's new location. As this was the first time I'd been in the area since the store moved (back in...May, I think), I made sure to get there a bit before the concert was set to start so I could check out the new digs.
And that was where I purchased Watchmen. (Funnily enough, they had it on sale. Whyever would they possibly do that, I wonder?) I've been reading it in the dead part of my shift (3:30-5:30-ish, more or less), because after my first night with it, I decided it would probably be best to avoid having to deal overmuch with people while I'm working on coming up for air from that narrative.
I did not just write "coming up for air" lightly, there. This book is dense. Claustrophobic, even, which I imagine is part of the point. Fascinating and uncomfortable and absorbing and neat, in all its sprawling use of different styles and formats to tell what I can already see dovetailing into the cohesive whole.
I'm about halfway through at this point. (Comics take me longer to read than straight-up text. I think having the text in the graphics confuses some long-conditioned, black-words-white-background part of my brain.) I may have more to say when I finish, but for now, I'll settle for:
Holy crap, I wanna see this movie.
*~*~*
People are still posting their vividcon vids, and I am still at work. *WOEZ SUMMORE*
Le sigh.
|