Okay, I know I just wrote to you yesterday (so you're terribly tired of me), but I just realized that I left out a significant experience: going to an underground (literally and figuratively) indie English rock concert (it was so subterranean)! Think...skinny boys (to an uncomfortable extent). My favorite band there: Sketches (who were so indie they only had a vinyl). The venue: Mole's (as the name suggests: a dingy club below street-level), where the musical geniuses of the night - dressed in plaid shirts and adorable sweaters - gather to revel in the unknown music scene. Sketches (http://www.myspace.com/sketchesband) was incredible, though, unfortunately, their recorded material is not nearly as good as them live (I know - how awfully pompous). At one point, the one nearest to starvation (blond, jean jacket, right) whipped out some drumsticks from his back pocket and started wildly banging the drum, standing up, with his hands high above his head, his body curving back and forth like a wishbone. It was pretty wonderful. And the best part: I found out about the concert through my housemate Kelly, who met one of the bands on the street (and casually conversed with them about her experience feeding a pidgeon). They came up to us before they went on: clearly, my "cool" indicator sky-rocketed that night (as if it could get any higher...good thing I brought my skinny jeans...). I think I want to steal the one with the purple pant's haircut.
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