of montreal

Of Montreal show a couple weeks ago with Kenne and Alfie, and their friend Sinan. I really wanted to make this post special, because the night meant a lot to me. I hadn't seen the guys in a while, I'd flaked on their previous two invites and had reach a point of feeling stupidly embarrassed to even show my face. When I met them for dinner before the show, I slinked into the restaurant with my tail between my legs, all apologies. They didn't give a shit, weren't mad at all, were just glad I was okay. Within five minutes we were caught up and within ten laughing like old times. In fact it was the closest I'd felt to Kenne in years. I sat on these photos for so long because I felt like I learned something that night, about friendship - something important that I wanted to say.

But I realize now that all the emotion that came from that night was just happiness. Nothing more complicated or revelatory than that, though it figures I'd try to repackage it as something exotic and new. Old blog habits die hard.

I'm the original opening band hater, but I have to say Yip Deceiver was a blast. Holy Ghost meets
Geographer, kinda.

I hadn't listened to Of Montreal in ages, and had never been to a show. Hello, money's worth. Nonstop visuals and props and coordinated fun. Unsurprising it was sold out.  

First time seeing the restored The Regent theater downtown. Big thumbs up, especially for the balcony. Nice, cozy little venue.

We hung back for the most part, though Kenne and I did squeeze up for a song or two.

Afterward we went to our favorite gay dive bar, to watch some drag and drink some really, really bad idea tequila.

I was charged with French braiding Kenne's hair. No hair tie, though. Also: bad idea tequila.

Sometimes, thankfully, the thing you want to say so badly doesn't need to be said at all.