friday i had so much fun that all-day saturday i had a fun hangover. and no drinking (except a few sips of champagne), just lots of fun, which caused me, the next day, to be a little bit slow and a teeny bit bummed and just generally “the next day”.
the day (friday) started off pretty bogue, messing up a silkscreen over and over, as noted earlier. then i met up with my western mass connection and drove to the store, went to donkey dog nuts and got coffee, and from there everything pretty much took off. josh’s show was (and is) really great, and he made a gorgeous zine / catalog, with lots of drawings from the show and lots of other stuff too. really really awesome. at one point we got really hungry and wanted quan yin, so we just called up and ordered “three good meals”, which worked out pretty good, despite QY being closed, and our call getting rerouted to the buddha hut (which as mentioned is inferior for all applications that don’t involve sketched-out parents). good turnout at the show, and mariah pariah brought a silver tray of cookies, regular and girl scout (thanks mariah!). after closing, my northampton pals drove home to see black pus, grey skull, and fat worm of error (which was in josh’s house). i wanted to go but i would have had no ride home, so i opted out. donny said the show went good and the boredoms were in the crowd, which is pretty epic, and i feel a mild pang for having missed it, the boredoms being my favorite band for a period of three years (and grey skull being awesome). nonetheless i feel i made the right move, going instead to the punk show– apeshit, CFL, dungeoneers and more at the wheelchair.
at past shows at the wheelchair, as perhaps astute readers may have gleaned, i felt like quite the sore thumb, being as a matter of course older (for the most part), soberer (with some exceptions), and not in the perceived uniform. ok, so this is pretty much all in my mind, but friday, while i sure didn’t blend or melt, i realized that sometimes a salad only has one or two croutons, and no part is not not-part-of-the-salad. RITE? so i got my head in the proper place, and as the night went on, i felt more and more in heaven, or rather, on the earth of shared creation: ML completely shredding the ramp with a wig on the whole night; me, dancing hard in a fred astaire vein hand in hand with a beautiful rogue ginger rogers, buffeted in waves of soggy t-shirts and greasy moptops. at one point the afore-mentioned champagne bottle rolled off a ramp and stood spinning on it’s side in a crowd that immediately formed a circle. the bottle slowly slowed and stopped, two sweaty lads embraced. i always cry at weddings.
ON DANCING:
i was at dinner with my mother not a month ago, talking about the sort of shows i go to and the show my aunt’s neighbor went to at the palladium where his jaw got broken. i made the case that violent dancing can be a display of aggression, and an extension of fighting, or it can be a display of affection, and an extension of hugging, and i only attend instances of the latter. this is a good way to frame it if the discussion ever comes up, but there are times (and they are the best times) when crazy dancing- fast, reckless, with equal parts abandon and trust- is neither display nor extension, but everything rolled up at once. we’re careening into flowing robes territory now, but you know: times when you realize you’re not just in the world, you are the world. on that mississippi john hurt album that pars likes (and that i like) there’s a great song about dancing crazy, and he sing/says: “i’ll be there and you’ll be there, and i’ll meet you in the soup, and we’ll get all mixed up”. that’s it!
ALSO:
apeshit played an impromptu set and even though we don’t really know each other so good it was great to see circle pat again. pat will mosh at a single dropped hat– when he sees a mike & ike on the ground, or when he finds out that a small pizza is $2 on tuesday, and it’s tuesday.
ALSO:
as i was leaving, getting my stuff, which i stashed behind a moldy loveseat, the meaty fellow displaced by actions said “get a load of this nerd”. well the girls he was trying to build himself up to were none other than those excellent warhol-looking teens and they sure tore in– “that’s jacob- he runs HBML and he rules etc.”. well, you could have knocked me over with a feather! i set out alone into the night, with big lazy snow sparsely falling, singing, almost keeping pace with a train gliding silently towards the yard.
weird snow bursts notwithstanding, it’s spring sure enough. oh, also the auction of the shop got delayed until may 1, so i figure we’re set for at least the summer through.
