Wednesday, January 19, 2005

ol' man scenester

I wonder when it'll no longer be okay for me to go to rock shows at people's houses. How much longer can I drink 32oz bottles of High Life in a stranger's front yard while hardcore bands rage inside? I'm not even that punk anymore; even when I was young and angry, I wasn't that punk--at least not in the uniform sense of the word. I'm all for damning the man and I'd think anarchy would be great if people weren't treacherous sons of bitches. Even when I was young and angry, I couldn't stomach hardcore; I never understood a style of music where what they're saying is so important that they have to scream it till it's unintelligable. But, whatever. I love freedom of expression, and it's nice to know that shows in living rooms of bands you've never heard of still exist.

Tonight was fun, even though the bands didn't exactly rock my world. They had their moments, but the tiny, echoing confines of a residential living room aren't condusive to high volume music, and let's face it, packed hardcore punk shows in cramped corners don't smell too good. I went out to see a friend's band perform. I wasn't really in the mood to stay out all night, and of course, they were set to play last; and of course, there were more bands on the bill than I knew about. But I hung around, talked to people I haven't in a while, or with those I've never really gotten the chance to speak with. It was good times, until the 32 had pushed the pressure in my bladder beyond its bursting point. There was no reclusive foliage in the highly residential area, and I have hang-ups about pissing in the wild, so I had little recourse other than to use the house's facilities.

...I'm not one to talk. I certainly wouldn't eat off the floor, and I only shower there because I don't have a choice, but when I walked into this bathroom, I swear I could hear the germs whispering about how best to attack me. What was worse was that I think I took the second or third longest leak of my life, and it was difficult to hold the door closed and aim at the same time--difficult, but not impossible. I'm a pro.

After the bathroom adventure, I wandered outside for some fresh air and noticed the cops had arrived--no more show. And the band I'd went to see never got the chance to play. In fact, they were the only band who didn't get to play. It figures.

1 comment:

Erratic Prophet said...

This is why girls go to the bathroom in pairs. One guards the door while the other pees.

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