Accruing skills in the art of bullshit. You buying that? Well, that’s all I’m selling at this point. I can take you on a crash course on how to amass a wealth of knowledge in subject matter that would put you to sleep. Give me a call. I could talk for days.
Work has been a struggle lately. It’s one of our busiest weeks of the year, which consists of 10 similar weeks in our annual cycle. Luckily my coworkers are choice cut. Everyone backs each other up especially when we see each other sweating out a rough night or a worse morning. In this sense my job is king of the hill, but the subject matter will destroy your will to think. I’m a robot and Will Smith is coming to kill me. Ok, so it’s not like working in a factory, but it is like memorizing your lines. Once you’ve got them they never go away and you can recite them in your sleep. At this point my play has been in theaters for over 32 months. It’s been a long run, but the end will be greeted with a smile.
The same smile I shared with roommate peg leg when we finally sat down to eat our Mexican feast. We made a bunch of tacos and I whipped up some 186 famous guac. It wasn’t exactly the meal you want to eat before a night of drinking, but it served its purpose.
Christie and I met on the corner of 2nd and Houston on our way to the show. If you live in the area, check out the subway station entrance on the northwest corner of that intersection. There is a sweet piece of fence there to sit on that has a great view of the parade. New York has some intriguing looking characters if you remember to look at them.
We proceeded to Lit and caught up since our last hang. If you didn’t know Christie has been making these really hot earrings. If you are a girl who likes the hot shit, I’ll put you in touch with this girl. We had a couple drinks before going to the basement to see The Regs open for the Mooney Suzuki. The wait for both bands was a little outrageous, but I should have known better.
Nicky who plays bass for The Regs put me onto their gig, and I want to shoot a thanks to him for it. The Regs are a four-piece outfit who play rock music that sounds best pouring from your garage than in some club. Their tunes were oddly familiar, but I don’t think it was the music itself. They managed to push memories of easy days to the front of my mind. Lit isn’t the kindest place to a band, but they handled it like champs. The band that looks the part backing a politely flailing lead singer whose voice recalls one part Kurt Cobain, one part Bob Pollard and two parts Trevor Keith. They feel, sound and look like a band who enjoy their weekends more than most. You like parties don’t you?
We ran into Mandel who was showed up during the 12 hour wait for the Mooney Suzuki. Sammy James and the boys took the stage and blew threw a quick set of mostly old songs for the packed sweat soaked basement. I still have an affinity for this band, but I’m hoping their new record has some undeniable songs. They could use them. They are perfect for a club like Lit. All they needed was a little more headspace. I can’t see a Mooney show without Sammy carrying the guitar player through the crowd on his shoulders, can I?
We ran into Hal and Jason outside who informed us it was Jason’s birthday. We also came stumbled into George who had some big news about Thom. I don’t remember what exactly it was or if it was that amazing, but Thom, if you read this, what was going on last night. I’m struggling to remember.
We hopped into a cab and made our way to some bar on Rivington, that is just East of Suffolk, to ring in the birthday with some beverages. It didn’t have a name, but we went down a set of stairs to enter. It was a decent spot with drinks that were a dollar over reasonable. Yeah, it’s budget time. We managed to meet up with Cami, Flynne, Stephanie and Shane. The night drew to an abrupt close when people pulled Belin’s, ran out of money and someone realized he had work in 6 or so hours.
1 Comments:
done and done. c'est ca. don't be so sad. i've got plenty devil in me to find a purpose for these idol hands. later, scat turdly
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