Fucking hell, leaving the house can be such a pain in the ass, i mean i have to do it sometimes but i understand why the older i get the less i feel like doing it, so we go back to saturday and the show, a great show by the way with Dean Wareham in top form and telling some great stories and the band was tight and the encore was a cover of Ceremony which had one pilled up, unshaven, tall guy sailing on a cloud of opiated big pharma bliss, but first of course i had to watch a football game which had me running late and then the venue was some fucking lecture hall which was behind the Carnegie Museum and Library, a lecture hall with no signs or lights and worst yet no booze, which was okay cuz i had already eaten my drugs but it was still a pain in the ass to find and i'm driving around a neighborhood i know well going what the fuck? and then i find it and park in Mugger's paradise, which is fine by me cuz nothing says good saturday like robbing a mugger and so i pull the pinner out of my cigarette pack and proceed to drop the fucking thing in the only place that i can lose it in my car, that little tiny space on the emergency brake, so i spend the next ten minutes trying to see if i can get it out, getting out of my car, motherfucking the universe, glaring at passers-by, all cuz i lost my only joint and the pills hadn't started kicking yet and it dawns on me that i probably shouldn't take this car over any borders cuz that was primo shit and all i need is some German Shepard sniffing around my auto, so after finally giving up i say fuck it at least i can get a drink and head to the lecture hall to find out it's dry, so i have a Pepsi and a smoke and soon the tingle comes on and i take my general admission seat in the last row at the top of the hall all by myself...
And the show is great, though it seems i'm the only one having any fun other than the band as everyone sits there all stoic and lecture hall like and of course some nimrod yells out King of Spain, thus guaranteeing it won't get played and i'm all highed up and enjoying shit from my perch up top and things are going quite smoothly until some dipshit stands up in front of me and begins to check his phone and be oblivious to my ever deepening glare and the band is breaking into Tugboat, which is one of my favorite songs and this fuckhead is still checking all his important messages with his fucking faux-hipster do and i suddenly realize that i know this fucking idiot and so do you dear readers, it's Pudge from the Homage-Ellroy post and suddenly i'm thinking about how much fun i'm gonna have pulling him over the last row of seats and stepping on his throat while i calmly light a cigarette to put out on the back of his hands, of course Pudge and his young date, who may or may not have been the same girl from the bar but a girl who was looking at me pleadingly in a way that said "save me" or "don't beat the shit out of him" or "please beat the shit out of him" but smiling and holding my gaze a bit to long suddenly pushes him out of my sight line and he still is clueless, as if he's the sun and i'm the moon and the band is the earth, a fucking old fake hipster solar eclipse of one of my favorite songs, needless to say they were there for all of four songs maybe and i'm assuming he bought tickets cuz he heard this band was "cool" back in the day, unlike his shit mash up artist and decided to leave cuz he couldn't get a drink and it wasn't cool enough for him, in short a fucking wanker...
So the show ended and i walked to my car and smoked and sang Ceremony and Don't Let Our Youth Go to Waste and Fourth of July and since it was still early i stopped by the local strip joint (which is actually within walking distance from my house) and it was crowded and the girls seemed to be making money so i sat at the bar and kept mine in my pocket and watched football cuz the drugs were beginning to really hit home and i didn't want to hear another stripper tell me she was just doing this until she got her law degree or phd or hustle a lap dance or better yet the champagne room, in fact the scene quite bored me and i finished my one beer and headed home to eat some Lucky Charms and fret about my leaky roof and hope Kid B wasn't catching what Kid A had and dwell upon the top notch rock and roll i had just witnessed and pet my cat Louie. So the set list, give or take a few and in somewhat coherent order:
Flowers/Pictures/Snowstorm/When Will You Come Home/Temperatures Rising/Trees Decomposing/Strange/Blue Thunder/Don't Let Our Youth Go To Waste/Tugboat/Listen the Snow is Falling/Fourth of July/Encore: I'll Keep it With Mine (from Dean and Britta's 13Most Beautiful album of the Warhol screen tests) Ceremony (Joy Division)
8 comments:
Christ I can remember those days of trying to get out of the house... it still isn't easy. Glad you made it to the show and back safely, because I was waiting for a fall out of the balcony or something similar when Pudge showed up.
Can't imagine what I might find hidden in my car crevices. Hmm...
Pudge! That's fucking awesome.
So, have you found the joint, yet?
You can be my Tugboat Captain any day kono
There's always a cell phone somewhere to spoil the fun. I'd tell the big lugs in my gym to stop texting while on the equipment except they could crush me like a walnut.
Strip clubs don't work for me. I can never buy into the fantasy that the girls want me. I know what they're really thinking.
Don't worry about Ben. He's a paper tiger. My Jets will put him down like the dog he is.
i wanna see kono and unbearable banishment live-blog that stinking Jets-Steelers game. winner buys the weed...
Jayne- Pudge is quickly becoming a burr in my delicate ass, sooner or later i'll lose it and berate him and he'll not have a clue why.
Sybil- nope, still looking.
Nurse- You make me blush. I'd be honored to captain your Tugboat.
UB- Cell phones may be the single most annoying invention in the last 20 years. Someday i'll post about my relationship with strip clubs cuz it's a long and winding story. As for the game, hmmm, you may not want to read my next post but it will explain my thoughts on this sunday as a Browns fan who lives in Stiller Country but who is no fan of any team from the Big Apple.
Daisy- i would but i'll be sitting in Heinz Field, i got a ticket.
Crowded seedy joints are the loneliest places in the world. Or the best. I'm not sure this week, which is which.
What a great night out, bummer about the joint thought. I hate when that happens. Why is it that you can hit that kind of slot perfectly without trying but if you were playing drop the clothespin in the milk bottle you would miss it every damn time? Ever in Lebanon MO I'll treat you to some of my homegrown. . .
Post a Comment