An old friend once told me *cough cough Dale-I-mean-you cough*, "You know you're too old when the music's too loud".
Nuit Blanche 2013, billed as "an all night contemporary art thing", has been going strong in Toronto since 2006; now spanning from the heart of downtown to deep into my neighbourhood in West Queen West (the latest hipster stronghold since all the condos started building up around us 6 or so years ago, gag me...), this bacchanalia of art, food, music, and dance has a strong foothold in my city.
So what the hell was I doing, being involved in something that normally serves me as nightmare fuel?
We live very close to Queen Street West, home of the iconic Gladstone Hotel and Bar, and the uber-chic Drake Hotel, buzzwords for "cool", "happening", and "hip(ster)", which offers $14 custom cocktails with names like "Brown Butter Maple Old Fashioned", "Autumn Sweater", and "The Safe Word". Having worked the strip when I was a shift supervisor at the local coffee house a few years ago, I can also state with steely-eyed certainty that their 20-something flannel-shirt-Buddy-Holly-glasses-and-fedora-wearing patrons are also buzzwords for "pretentious douchenozzle". Not that I'm bitter.
|Taken from my living room window. Oh joy.|
So much for trying to sleep.
Anyway, regardless of my crankiness right now, the rest of this evening was pretty cool. We saw some amazing live rope bondage and suspension demonstrations at the Great Hall just up the street from our apartment (ok, I kinda do love
So, all in all a good night. We got in before the rain, we had delicious street meat and cupcakes from food trucks, and I was back home before I started bumming out from the crowds. Now to take my Geritol, put on my granny gown, plop my dentures in the glass by my bed, and get some shut-eye. Wish me luck for my starring role in "Sleep 2.0: The Sleepening".
...oh geez, I really do need to get to bed...