end of the night

As a child of divorce - metaphorically speaking - I was showered with a new Expos hat gift. And ever since I've started wearing it, I've been mistaken for 'someone I know.'

Tonight, at The Books show, a girl tapped me on the shoulder. "Dave?"

The other day, at the Viau Metro, the STM worker behind the bullet-proof glass demonstrated that he was somewhat human by joking around with me a bit. I was gobsmacked (as Lazer-by would type) and then the Metro guy said, "J'm'excuse. J'pensai que t'etais quelqu'un que je savais."

I enjoy this newfound anonymous oblivious celebrity.

Quick Notes (because I know you are all studying or about to sleep or pregnant.):

- I was at a club tonight and dancing with a couple of girls and 'Hard to Explain' by the Strokes came on and I started to get 'er goin, but the girls didn't react... they didn't know the words... they didn't know the song...

Sad, I know... but it came out in 2001. Damn, where did time go? (As I learned tonight, at The Books show, Meditation is an anagram of 'time in a dot' or 'a dot in time.') I think I need to readjust my expectations.

- By the way, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club is the Double D Tits...

- Go see The Books. Don't be illiterate. They're very, very good and the music is very unique and sincere. It's an experience. Vancouverites, if you don't check them out, you have no excuse...