A world lit only by fire.

Got the new PSTHMN EP (the remixed Posthuman album by Justin Broaderick and friends, making up Harm's Way.) It's delicious. Very Godflesh without too many surprises so I love it. 

It's a beautiful day for crushing, industrial noise with a chugging undercurrent that makes you feel sick to your stomach. The sun is out, PJ is headbanging and we're almost caught up on laundry. 

It's Saturday so once that is done I am free to paint. 

Paiiiiiint. 

Lochlan is working. Ben? Working. Sam is definitely working. PJ works his ass off all the time except when he's not and everyone else seems to be sleeping in. Missing the sun. Missing this noise. Missing me being perfectly regular (we don't say 'normal' in this house; that's a dirty word). Missing coming to pick up their laundry piles before PJ wraps the clean clothes around various blunt objects and throws them overhand into their rooms at sleeping forms. It usually goes over well and is one of my favorite parts of the week, frankly, especially when the objects of choice are big heavy things like downhill ski boots and table lamps. 

My birthday is only two weeks away and I'm sure the boys will soon shrug off their laundry injuries and ask me what I want for it. 

I'm going to say more days like this. 

Schweet.

We WON!!!! Now on to Sunday's nailbiter of a game 6. If we win that? On to round two.

Now go read about Notre Dame's bees. So happy they survived by gorging on honey. Now I know why I don't burn.

The measurement of my worth, in pop music knowledge.

Because as long as I don't know, I feel as if I'm still me.

Caleb once again did that thing, though much less malevolently, these days. I think he is mellowing, albeit in that way a cup of coffee cools on the counter into a softer version of itself with no kick to finish off the taste.

It's not too late to go to Indio for the weekend. (I swear he is the biggest hipster wannabe, for a mid-fifties lawyer kind of guy. What is it about lawyers and Coachella?) Why don't you look at the lineup and let me know? We'd be there by early afternoon.

So I look. You know, for 'fun'.

He comes back around twenty minutes later. My coffee is almost cold, my mood has set me back a hundred years. Who are these people? It's as if music comes in colors, and this is definitely all milky, chipped pastels.

See anyone you'd like to hear?

I don't recognize any of it, I frown. Is this a test? Like every couple of years we confirm that 'no, Bridget still doesn't know a band. As you were, everyone. Peace reigns in the kingdom', that kind of thing?

He laughs. No. I just offered a break. A little getaway. People do that sort of thing, Bridget. 

Rich people do that sort of thing. Instagram people. 

What's the matter? 

I'm not an instagram people. 

No, you definitely are not. 

I tried to be but it isn't me. 

And you are you. 

That's right. Sorry about that. 

Wouldn't have it any other way. 

Then go get your game face on. Hockey's at four. 

Oh, that's early. 

It's the playoffs, Diabhal! 

This is why I love you, Bridget. Your passions are few but a little unique. 

A lot. 

That's what I said.

Bring chips. But not ketchup ones. Oh, and can you get the Amon Amarth tickets when they go on sale? There's a band I know.

Exactly.

A wolf in white and blue.

Game five with me, Bridget? 

Yes. I smile at Joel, a peace offering because I was a little dick last time he came over, and because he's spending his days mea culpa-ing all over the place and I need to let him and not resist, instead of fighting him to be like everyone else.

I'll bring pizza. 

And wings. Lots of them. We'll host a party.

He smiles gamely (pun intended) and rallies handsomely, as we won't be alone. We never actually are, but this has nothing to do with him. I'm forcing everyone in the house to watch the Leafs.

For luck.

Because if my team can win the next two games they're still in the playoffs and we love a winning Leafs team. Or, you know, they could cave under pressure, throw the whole mess and start summer vacation early.

They'd better not. Last time they won the cup Lochlan was in diapers, and I didn't exist. I just want them to win one in my lifetime. That's all. And I hope it's this year because I take enough shit for being a fan of the wrong team in a city that loves the Canucks, a team that...has never won the cup, nor did they even grace the playoff schedule this season.

Suck it, Vancouver. No, seriously.

Guess I'm taking a paperback to read at break today.

PJ already knew about Amon Amarth and said nothing because he's already planning a date for the show.

I thought about this for a moment and then asked him, what if you're not still dating whoever then? 

I'll take Ben. If he's out of the doghouse by then. If not I'll take you and you can circle pit with me in GA. 

I'm not doing that. 

Okay, we'll get lower bowl, just in case. Lightweight.

He laughs warmly but he's still a little (a lot, okay, a lot) mad.

Last night when I got home, I went over to Ben who was in the driveway under the awning talking to Sam and he asked how I was. I said hot and tired.

He asked if I knew what was really invigorating and I shook my head. Too tired to answer.

So he picked me up and ran for the edge of the yard and threw me over like I weighed nothing save for the almighty heft of my screams.

I forgot my phone was in the pocket of my work dress.

My sturdy black work shoes did not fall off. Which means they were very heavy.

And Sam followed me in because I was very tired and therefore could hardly walk let alone swim all the way around the point.

The phone didn't survive two metres of seawater for fifteen minutes.

The shoes, well, they're at the bottom of the sea and now today I have to wear my old adidas and hope no one sees them. Maybe I can paint the stripes black with a sharpie? Either way I'm going to break my neck.

And Ben is in the doghouse. Not because my phone and my shoes got ruined but because the water was two degrees.

Two. 

It was so cold it hurt.

As usual, he has no regrets. And to clarify, I'm not mad at him. It felt really good for a minute there, like all things that will kill me, but everyone else was completely less than impressed.

Up all night.

It's definitely Monday.

Like it's holy-shit levels of Monday and Notre Dame is burning. Poor Paris.

We stayed up late for Game of Thrones. I couldn't remember any of the politics and forgot my manners and yelled out THEON when Alfie Allen came onscreen. He's my favorite out of whoever they are.

Everyone else is DRAGONS! I don't actually like the dragons, or the story or any of the people. But it's at least somewhat interesting. I like the scale. I like medieval things.

I'm tired though.

I had a hard time cashing out my tables today, in any case. Couldn't focus. Still can't. Had a bunch of messages from the boys pointing out my blog typos, my lack of laundry finished, my inability to make myself a decent lunch, instead taking four-day-old pizza for my break and then not being able to eat it. The baker gave me a muffin that wasn't up to snuff and I ate some of that instead.

I got caught up on paperwork at work too (I do some payroll at work now too). I gave Ruthie a lot of encouragement as she started a new job this week, having finished her second year of university. I've now saved $10227 in my 'work' bank account and I've pushed back my promise to quit to when Henry graduates.

Maybe.

I saw a few new job postings I might apply for but I sort of like the diner. It's a little retro and they're fine with my hours, plus if I really don't want to do something in the course of a day I don't have to.

Maybe.

We finished watching Afterlife on Netflix. It was good. I sobbed like a child at the end and I still don't know why. Life is beautiful and ugly and ridiculous and amazing. I hate my job but I don't. I hate people but I don't, too. It is ridiculous and amazing, this life.

I just found out Amon Amarth is coming to Vancouver this fall. I can't wait to tell PJ and watch him shriek with excitement.

Well, that was a whole heaping stack of AWESOME.

With many firsts.

No bag check, no pocket check, no pat-down, no capless bottles (fuck you, Queen Elizabeth Theatre for that HUGE discrimination between metal shows and every other show). Had to embrace a total stranger on request. Multiple bubble cannons. Confetti typhoon. A toilet paper/paper towel fight. The members of one band defacing the stage set of another band, and two other bands coming onstage to take over the song of a band just finishing up. Multiple times, no less.

(Also at least ninety percent of the crowd were Youth Leadership from just about every church in the PNW. So wholesome.)

Pretty sure Ben was the only one wearing a metal hoodie.

Pretty sure all of the over-six-feet tall youth pastors were standing in front of me.

So, typical Switchfoot show.

Tyson Motsenbocker opened the show with a very open, honest and beautiful set. He is self-effacing and engaging and had the audience laughing along as he played and sang for us. I would go see him again just for his banter, truth be told. And his talent. Can't remember a song he sang but he was so nice and wonderful to listen to. I'm going to look him up anyway because sometimes artists sneak right in and grow on me and he was very easy to listen to.

Colony House was...uh...TWICE as heavy live as on their latest album. I didn't expect that. They were freaking amazing. Far and away more than I expected and the drummer stole everyone's hearts. They sounded really good and the only issue I had is their bass was so much louder than everything else I could feel it in my chest and it hurt.

Switchfoot. What can I say? It was the sixth time I saw them and I was a little hesitant because the last tour they were so slick and polished it was scary.

The first time I saw them was a dozen years ago at a smoky little club that housed less than three hundred fans. The fifth time was here, same venue but they were wildly detached. Must have been an off night two years ago because they were back in force tonight. Holy cow. Jon roamed the audience constantly. They jumped all over the stage. Tim got not one but two bass intros. Chad...crowd-surfed (possible the first time ever.) We all cried as they celebrated Jerome being cancer-free. There was pranking and punking throughout the night as the three bands made good use of celebrating the last night of this tour and the audience, by the end, was one big happy family.

They played everything they could fit in and more.

I don't know why I tell you this. You might not be a fan, and if you aren't already then I am sad for you because you're missing out. They're something completely different and I can't even articulate why. Somehow they managed to make beautiful, catchy songs that hold an undercurrent of poignancy. They unabashedly ask the biggest questions ever with an openness and a grace that speaks louder than any concert they could put on, and they are incredibly warm, generous men besides. I've met them many times and they don't change.

It was a good show.

Rain for the fires.

And just like that in the rain last evening Caleb took his beloved Rag and Bone thermal shirt and retreated to his own quarters, and we were left with each other, a lot of fairy lights and some sort of quiet incredulity that he didn't fight to stay or make it something else, or cause any problems or even invoke his famous violence.

Perfect.

I love him more when he's like this, when he answers questions thoughtfully and without smiling, when he takes a breath before acting and when he's nice.

I slept so hard. Eight hours. A good solid night. I woke up in Lochlan's face but managed to get out from underneath his arms with the barest of acknowledgements as he sleeps on. I wonder if there's any of the good coffee left. I wonder if Ben crashed on the couch in his studio or if he is still awake and unaware of the time. I wonder if Sam is lonely. I wonder a lot of things this morning but at least I'm not wondering why I'm so tired today and I'm grateful for that.

Half an hour later I am dressed with wet hair and I head downstairs with a fresh cup of coffee for Ben. He is not awake so I leave it on the desk and just as I'm going back out he speaks.

I came up last night. 

After ten?

Before. 

He left at ten. I'm sorry. 

It's fine. Thank you for the coffee. I'm coming up. 

You finished? 

No, I want to have breakfast with my girl. 

Rag and bone.

It's foggy this morning. Chilly and dim. Caleb has lit a fire and dressed me in his thermal waffleknit t-shirt. He's brought up black coffee and chocolate croissants and we're having breakfast in bed, a weekend on a Friday. I am sleepy but today nothing hurts. I'll call it even, bigger because the odds are small.

I tried to give him grace and in turn he offered himself up for sacrifice. And I still sit here in surprise that it worked, that he actually got up, went downstairs and made breakfast instead of picking up a phone and having a stranger do it while he took all the credit and suddenly instead of making an effort to own me, he's making one to take care of me, one that doesn't involve wielding his money as a weapon or his wealth as a crutch. He's trying out life on his own two feet finally, a little humility, a lot of slow moves.

Here. He takes my cup and puts it on the table and returns to roll up the cuffs on his shirt. It's huge.

Beautiful, he breathes. Slow.

Slow.

Slow.

Thanks, mate. Lochlan reaches over me and takes the croissant off Caleb's plate, eating it in two bites. I was hoping you'd notice.

Check my brain (a quickie City and Colour + Alice in Chains review, if you will).

Okay, so If I Should Go Before You had me crying far earlier than I expected, and yes, in person Dallas Green sings like an angel. An unearthly, tattooed, humble fucking ANGEL.

I didn't know what to expect from the genre-bending pairing of he and AIC, but it worked. I was a little awed and I'm not often awed and even Ben turned to me with wide eyes at one point and I knew he was equally overwhelmed. Because holy. It was a rare religious experience for a group of seriously seasoned live music lovers.

It was so good.

Alice in Chains was also good. Tighter and more formal than last time but also having a blast. My ears are still ringing. They smiled so huge the whole time it was new and wonderful. They also played Heaven Beside You so I was content as fuck, though there were at least three songs I didn't know well and was disappointed in myself for. This was a show for the boys though. Mine is on Saturday when Switchfoot returns.

And now I need sleep because four hours is not enough.