Memorial Hall. Friday, March 17th.
I've never really been sure exactly what St. Patrick's Day is other than a day when everyone in public school wears green and only the coolest of the cool (read: the ones who fail later in life) looks half decent, and everyone in university drinks green beer and listens to loud Great Big Sea all evening (read: the ones that looked good in green in grade 8).

But now I know for certain that I've discovered the true meaning of St. Paddy's Day...




Yes little Ms. McRedhead and little Master McFreckleface, the true meaning of St. Pat's Day is to totally rock out with 100 of your best friends, to give to the high heavens a piece of your music thirsty soul, to give it to the people, to kick out the funkin jams with your best suit on and your strongest foot forward...



And then, of course, it's about the poetry... music and poetry, what more could you ask for?

And so, thank you to everyone who came down to freakin get your Paddy's Day freak on with us at Mem... to Chris and Rachel for winning the slam in fine form... to Whitefeather and Denis and Sam for doing such a fine job judging, for John and the finest beats I've ever heard (and the finest hat I've ever owned), for Fats Robinson for being the most talented and experimental trumpt player I've ever heard (and for being such a great partner on stage for an hour's worth of improv... ah, the chemistry!), mto Phil for bringing his one man techno show to our grand home and swooning us all, to all the slammers in their slamming...

and to Marie and Lori and ArtZone for making it happen... such talent humbles me everyday

to Mike for fixing my bass (thanks dude, you rock), and to Mitchell for saving the freakin day (thanks dude, you rock too)...

and for all you sad and sorry souls who didn't make it because you were too busy swilling green beers and remebering the glory days of public school -- when are you gonna catch on that we throw the best party in town huh?!