Long Live The Queen.

Compadre began the weekend with the most delicious, subtle, and sensuous meal. Accomplished and complex yet decidedly user friendly. I took detailed notes while he prepared the polenta cakes, seared the scallops and fried the goat cheese. I'm continuing the process of organizing these scribblings into a coherent recipe. Patience. This was followed by a quick trip to gayest gay piano bar ever The Other Side where I may have had my ass grabbed a total of 9 times. Our party decided to retreat to MJ's, haven and sanctuary from sexual harassment it be. The music was loud dubby and one note. The boys weren't even hot enough to look at. Off night for MJ's. Got to bed late, and woke up sans gym slut Compadre. 9:00 am on a Saturday and at the gym already. Ambitious.

Brunch on Saturday at Square One where apparently famous actor Jason Lee from a show I'm told is called My Name Is Earl was either eating in the restaurant with us or waiting to eat. Probably waiting. I hear they won't let Oprah into that shop where I buy my towels. It's good to know pedigree still counts for something.

I'll be spending an extended weekend in Seattle with Anonymous D and associated parties. So much music to buy, I opted to ease the stress of a frenetic weekend by postponing all music purchases until I'm in Seattle where music, and music shopping, is taken a little bit seriously. Tim Hecker's Harmony In Ultraviolet, and Donnacha Costello's 6x6=36 are on the top of my list in case anyone cares. Oh and Lindstrom. I can't buy a Shins album. The universe is simply not constructed in such a manner.


A friend back-channeled a piece from Page 6's Just Asking section which I have never had the opportunity to read. Jist of comment;

"WHICH famous athlete isn't as interested in women as his fans believe? He has been able to keep his sexuality under wraps, but the question is for how much longer".

I didn't say a thing.