Last night was insane: the Puppy Fat/Shady Gents posse knocking back large shots of liquid cocaine (Jagermeister, Rumpelmintz & Bacardi 151) before heading out for a dance party featuring BMX Bandits, Dexys Midnight Runners and some over-exuberant dancing which resulted in me breaking a coffee table, Maggie Vail helping lead festivities again, Chis O’Kane and Eric Erlandson (who was supposed to have left town) her trusty dance lieutenants, Hello Cuca - “I’m gonna jump your bones” supplying wired merriment and harsh rock sounds in the Yellow House’s basement, Aaron smashing down hard on a tower of shot glasses and breaking a few, stories swapped about Cows and The Day Everett True Became An Honourary Happy Monday, insults hurled around over whether Gibralter is a rock or an island (with monkeys, dude!), wandering around the entire day in a delirium haze of tiredness and tiredness (was this only last night?), a cowboy western swing band playing in the corner of the Brotherhood, the sassy waitress in the Bamboo telling me to fuck off after we’d traded insults about each other’s accents and then clapping her hand to her mouth in shock (and hey, we didn’t even start on Ani DiFranco), chants of ‘liquid 45′ starting up spontaneously, and often, Menthis and water hurled, bourbon and coffee to wash down the liquor, over to kill rock stars at lunch time to hang out with Maggie’s talking dog Jackson, my wife asking me to kick him on the phone (but only cos she wanted all my attention to herself), sessions set up with The Punks (Slim And His Interns is still the better name), eat sushi and teriyaki and then walk in the rain to K Records to grab hold of the CJ album and The Blow, back up to Nikki and Jay T’s on the hill and relaxing tea and fresh corn cake, swap magazines for calendars, over to the Farmer’s Market earlier to discuss cool regular jobs with Lois, and now we all need the space to calm down a little and wait for the recording session and the dance party to begin all over again…