Tea and figs

Labels: music

I am quite fond of mysterious doors. This one is in a slightly dodgy neighbourhood, found on the exhausted way back from a picnic.

Strange house on Markham Street, which seems to be occupied by a cult of suicidal dolls.

Maybe it's the sadder younger sister of this house.

Despite its popularity as a young indie-rock hotspot, I think The Boat is a bit of a dump. The bands sound terrible (The Boat's sound system is not great), you can't see them well (the stage is kind of in the middle of everything), and it's less the fun grungy of Sneeky Dee's, and more, well, dirty. But good bands play there, so I go.

I don't like the venue, but I do like this shot, taken from a Henri and the Adorables show (who we're writing about in the next issue of The New Pollution, stay tuned).

Labels: music

Bad aunt, I am, posting a pic of newcomer Ben and not of Ben's taller, more articulate big brother. So here is Myles, on a trip to the countryside, taking a break from chasing his breathless aunt around a car.

I've written some rather nasty things about my sweetpea nephew in his infancy, but I'm pleased to report that our relationship has gotten much better since he stopped drooling on me.

Lex gave birth on Thursday night, so this is my second little nephew. He's a real sweetie, named Ben Anthony DeCastro (already nicknamed Bananthony by Jer).

Mom & baby doing fine. Myles (super nephew #1) is apparantly very thrilled as well.