Have I mentioned that all my friends are pregnant? Well, not all of them, obviously, as some of them are men. Oh, and not N anymore, as B arrived among us last week. (A girl! And an Aquarian! Could there be a cooler way to start life?)
And of course I have friends who've done it already, and friends who never will. But the critical mass is definitely heading in that direction, and it's a cause of some concern to me.
I am sure my friends' children will be as lovely as children can be, given that they are the children of my favourite people, have their genes and will be raised by them. But the fact remains that, try as I might, I Don't Much Like Small Children. In particular, I don't much wish to have my social life defined by their needs. Once they're old enough to set fire to things and show each other their bits, I'm all for them, but that's a different issue.
So, what to do? I've been worrying about this for a while, especially as my own preferences seem to be veering towards the dinner party end of the rock and roll spectrum since I stopped doing drugs and started having a proper kitchen.
But tonight I discovered the answer, or at least part of it. Go to gigs -- go to lots of them. Go just because you can, even though it's a school night. Go because you live down the road from an excellent venue where it's easy to get served and easy to find a place near the front where you can see.
Drink less beer than you used to when every night was a five pint night, but drink enough not to feel too aggrieved when someone bumps half a pint of lager over you.
And every now and then you will have a blinding, amazing, fantastic night out and feel horrified at the thought that you might have missed that gig.
Like tonight. Tonight, we saw the awesome Scissor Sisters. On a Tuesday.
It was M's idea... he'd heard Tits on the Radio and seen they were playing the Zodiac. I'd heard their disco version of Comfortably Numb in the Virgin Megastore and thought 'what the fuck is this'. So I said, ok, it's the night before plumbing, which is nearly as important as the night before Christmas, but hey, let's do it. And we bumped into Jeremy down the front during the support, and we stayed there, and it was the right place to be (as it usually is, unless everyone's Really Tall and Moshing).
And they rocked, and they disco-ed, and they funked, and they were altogether the only band I've seen in ages that made me forget I needed the toilet and was a bit thirsty, not to mention making me forget that I am pissed off with my job and in fact life in general (it's February, I know...)
Who needs to piss and drink and work when you can jump up and down to Jake Shears (surely the sexiest man in rock if you like your men skinny, fit as a butcher's dog and able to sing falsetto and dance at the same time) and Ana Matronic (surely the sexiest woman in rock if you like your women feisty, cool as fuck, feminist and voluptuous).
He is *lovely*. And so is she. Comfortably Numb was brilliant, but there were many other awesome songs, think kind of funked up Bee Gees with a hint of goth. It's like all the best bits of 80s dance music rolled into one with a slightly deranged edge. Marvellous.
And they're supporting Duran Duran on their next tour. I have never seen Duran Duran live. So maybe 2004 is the year. (Though maybe I'm a bit overexcited -- the NEC could never be as good as the Zodiac).
In short, the Scissor Sisters moved me. And they reminded me that America, for all its faults, is home to NYC, the coolest city on the planet by quite some margin. Only been once, must go again.
And it wasn't just us there -- it was sold out. I also bumped into several of my cooler colleagues and ex-colleagues. There is life out there, of course there is.
Got to bed by 01.00 because I am still a responsible member of society.
Thank the Lord for counterculture.
joella
PS Too many people on Atkins (as I have said before) -- never have I been to a gig where it was so farty down the front. Someone should tell these people that stink ain't cool.
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