This is going to be a good test of sobriety. In fact this may not be a really representative posting as the accute sense of lack of absolte sobriety quite possibly leads to overediting and censorship. I am at home, after an interesting evening out. The previous post provides all the information you need regarding the café part of my evening (ok you may need more but you must ask the questions to get the answers). This post deals with the post caffeine segment of my evening. It essentilally records my move to the bar described in the previous post and the consumption of three pints of the local British Columbia IPA in the company of an American fellow coleague from the English department. How often do you arrive in a bar as a thirsty academic and take a sit next to a person in pretty much the same situation? My colleague proved to be a good drinking partner. I suspect that with proper negotiations he may be converted into a more regular Manhattan-sipping associate. Mind you, I was complaining in the previous post of the lack of real contact with the locals. I guess that now I am sowly changing the rules of the game by attampting to become a local of sorts. An expat with my own odd contacts, peculiarly local even as they are parts of an odd diaspora. In any case, the social component to the evening has come to some sort of a close. Back home I am listening to a Dead can Dance CD I purchased this afternooon. More later once I have more to write on Momus, the other CD I got from the talkative record-shop manager.