Sinister: lazing on a sunny afternoon: a New York City concert/picnic extravaganza

[Will Porter]

So the first New York show was fun.  It all started with a picnic in
central park (for those of you who attended but are as bad with names
as I am, you may recall me as the massive redheaded guy).  It was
attended only by the most fabulous and glamorous people (in keeping
with David's and Julie's request on the invitation; special thanks to
the unglamorous for staying away) including England's own Mark
Casarotto, Sandra and Sarah and Nicola and Karolyne and Katrina from
Team Canada, Chris and Susanna and that vaguely vanilla-scented David
fellow from down under, and more Americans than you can shake a stick
at (I tried. It had a paper plate stuck on it and still no luck),
including most of the New York #sinister contingent, two very mean
little girls, and loads of gorgeous people who'd traveled many miles to
meet me and remind me to bring cheap red wine in prune juice jars next
time.  Or maybe I dreamt that last part.  At any rate, as regards the
people who *were* there, their countries and states were all the worse
for their having been at our little picnic by the great lawn instead of
their homes.  In fact, Britain got a little drunk and called me late
Sunday night, choking back tears and begging to have Mark back.  It was
really an embarrassing situation for everyone involved, but I don't
think we can in good conscience hand him over until Britain seeks some
help or just gets over it.
Then we had an intermission and reconvened at the concert hall.  The
Aislers Set were great in spite of some technical difficulties, and
golly that bassist is cute.  Then we waited.  And waited.  Eventually,
Belle and Sebastian took the stage.  The first thing I noticed (which
proved to be massively true by the end of the show): Stevie is a
natural born rock star.  Bona fide.  I don't remember the setlist, but
it was rad and it was full of good Belle and Sebastian songs.
And then we went to the bar where Chris was spinning after the show. 
That Beans is some kind of DJ, I'll tell you what.  My body still hurts
from busting a move. Ask anyone who's ever tried to get me to dance,
and they'll tell you that I do not dance. Ask anyone who was there last
night and they'll tell you that I do not dance well, but dance I did
(after sufficiently boozing my oh-so-sinister shyness into submission).
 Behold the awesome powers of the Geddes turntables!  And Wild Turkey!
So yeah, the short version: met lots of great people, saw a fantastic
show, and managed not to hurt anyone (badly) whilst doing my impression
of a dance and drinking like it was my job. Good times.
After all that and another (only partially sinister) party in the
middle, I should like to *ahem* sleep the clock around, but I'm afraid
I've got some tigermilking to do tonight.  Maybe I'll see you there.

xo,
Will Porter

P.S. Katrina from Halifax: my co-worker from Halifax is friends with
the librarian from Halifax that you mentioned. Small world, eh?

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