What Time is it, Mr. Wolf?

I know, I know, it's been over a week. The internet has been a cold and lonely place. I'm awful...

Truth be told there's been a lot going on the last few weeks, but nothing I really want to write about. I'm burned out on my own shit.

So this will be short.

First thing - The Racoons last night were freaking awesome. I know, I know, the Wolf Parade comparison is stale, but come on, they faced it head on and played This Heart's on Fire. Love. Seriously, Team Vancouver, go check them out June 8th at Richards on Richards. And Team Victoria - June 12th, Sugar, CD release party. Posse up!

Second thing - Patrick Wolf.

Dear Patrick,

I fucking love you. I don't know if you like girls, and if you do you probably like little arty cool euro-chicks that read Proust and fart watermelon bubbles. I am not that girl. But I have an overwhelming desire to be your big spoon, gently nuzzling your shoulder blades to calm you when you are in the throes of a nightmare, warming your icy feet under my legs when we are curled up, burned out on the couch watching Skins, watching with admiration and a tinge of lust as you sit at my vanity, creating your Bowie-esque sexy-alien-ingenue looks while channeling Annie Lennox in the video for Why. I want to watch you kiss Owen Pallett. I don't know if you guys play that way, but in my head you do. I will be at your show at Richard's on June 6th. I know I sound crazy, but really, I'm a nice girl. Don't be scared.

xoxo ~ m