Briefly : The JuJu Babies rocked really quite hard - unfortunately their set was much shorter than the Elektrofest one, but it was made up of most of my favourites of their songs, so, yay. I met them all and many of their friends and they're all bloody lovely. ~blows collective kisses that only
mistywoods will see.The music that was playing either side of their gig was, erm, not nearly so good for most of the evening. I think The Droyds were responsible for that. I probably shouldn't say anything too nasty. And anyway I don't want to take up space talking about that.
There were truly ridiculous amounts of random pretty. I mean, really stupid amounts.
And.
But.
And.
They *finally* started playing some decent music in the room with the dancefloor. And then they stopped. I sat with the Electric Dreams photographer-and-things, bitching about The Droyds. And then they started playing 'Blue Monday', so we got up and danced.
Earlier, while scouting for pretty, I'd clocked a tall thin gentleman in a silver skirt, though he hadn't looked all that interesting. He wandered in though with one of the gaspingly beautiful men, so I noticed him more this time. I looked a little harder. A little closer.
I nearly fainted.
Nearly passed out in the middle of Blue Monday. Once he'd left the room I went and sat down for a few seconds. Tried to collect myself. Started dancing again.
Went to look for him. Couldn't find him. Came back to dancing. Saw him wander in with the excruciatingly pretty. Sit down and chat. Then they played some 80s cheese and the excruciatingly pretty got up and danced.
And then the first heavy beats of Nine Inch Nails' 'Closer' shook the dancefloor and the man I'd been watching rose and moved to the dancefloor, subtly mouthing along to the lyrics.
And I thought : The last time I saw those beautifully awkward shoulderblades, they were wrapping themselves around the lyrics of '2HB'. But it wasn't Bryan Ferry.
And I thought : The last time I saw those long silvered cheekbones, they were lending their elegance to my own words. But it wasn't Brian Molko.
And I thought : The last time I saw those precise pretty lips, they were being ravaged by Jonathan Rhys Meyers. But it wasn't Ewan MacGregor.
Micko.
Fucking.
Westmoreland.
Yes. I have seen Micko Westmoreland dance to 'Closer'.
I'm not sure if that's more or less bizarre than having seen him dance to 'Gay Bar' by Electric Six.
I haven't even squeaked about it yet. I'm in absolute, dead shock. And no, before you ask, I did *not* go up to him - I would have but the atmosphere was just too relaxed and beautiful for me to spoil it by fangirling.
Um. I'm going to go and sleep now. In the morning, I suspect I will ring
asrana and scream at her a lot, and then feel better.~shakes head~ I swear I dreamed it. Only I know I didn't.
My god.
E.
x
