Alright. I can't believe that it took me two damn days to get around to finishing this. It's been rough, believe it. Anyhow, a sample, if you will:
My anxiety levels are running pretty high lately. I can't turn my head off long enough to sleep. And when I finally crash, I can't stay asleep. I grind my teeth. My shoulders are wire-tight. On Sunday, I got multiple text messages from Aaron M. about a show at Edinberg Castle. I got a few more from another 805 area code, and it took me most of the day to figure out that the second set were coming from a Chad from San Luis Obispo, who happened to be drumming in one of the bands playing that night. They were both buggin' me to go to the same show. And one person, I can flake on. Two people, including one from out of town? Much harder to do.
I figured I'd go to the show, try and shake this funk, have a drink. Just one, 'cause I only had like forty bucks to my damn name. There were folk in town, you see. And I justified it by telling myself it would be much easier to fall alseep if I had a bit o' drink in me.
So, I found myself chatting up old friends over shots of good tequilla and cheap beer. The bartender either forgot to or didn't charge me for the first shot/beer combo. Good sign, since I was so close to broke. After some inital chatter, I went upstairs and immersed myself in near-pitchperfect-black while I payed the cover and juggled my beer. The band was good, but the sound guy kept staring at me. He looked sorta like an old friend. When the set was finished and the lights came up it took us both a split second before I realize he was my old friend, Zephyr. I've lived in this city nearly seven years and I can't go fuckin' anywhere. It was good to see him, I got the update on his girlfriend (she's due in november, they're having a boy, he's appropriately scared) and all and kept drinking my way through the show, extremely happy that I had made the decision to go out. Went down for another beer and ran into a guy who used to work with my ex-boy -yet another instance of someone staring at me and it taking us both a few solid minutes to place it. We make nice while moving back to the band room, he says something about ex-boy's job-change, 'oh, so he did take X's position?' I ask. 'Oh yeah, you didn't know?' he questions innocently. 'Nah,' I say as we slip back inside the darkness ' We haven't talked in a while' Then the noise of the band makes talking impossible and I slip away, grateful to be covered by the dark and comforted by the tequilla.
After the show, I am drunk (which means I must keep drinking. I don't know why this is) and manage to run into yet another friend from high school - who I barely recognize since I haven't seen him in ten years. I barely remember him. Chad puts me into a cab, I get home and crash. Hard.
In the morning, I realize that my adventure has relieved me of $30, many hours of sleep and the ability to make it to work on time. I realize when I am in the shower that I am still drunk. Then I throw up, call in with a made up pet-related excuse and go back to bed for an hour. When I wake up, I manage to eat toast and have a morning toke to even out before hopping on the bus, where all the music on my iPod (Duckie. Yes, it has a name and yes, it's Duckie.) is mellowing me out and making me feel like the world is my music video (should you care to re-create the experience there's a track listing at the end of this post, like a soundtrack to my morning). I get a window seat on the bus and marvel at how appropriate or comforting song lyrics are and somewhere around fifth and market manage to finalize my next tattoo idea.
For a while, I've been planning on getting stars on the inside of my left wrist - one for every year that I've been at 16th & mission - one star will be just an outline, the next will be blue with no outline and the third will be a pinky red outlined in black. My original plan was to also get the U.S. Dept. of Labor job code for poet in there too, until I researched it and realized they don't have a number for poet anymore. Why would they? Who makes money being a poet these days? Still depressing though....
Anyhow, I thought of this: "It is later than you think" in a scroll-y type with the stars. It is graffiti from the bathroom of Amnesia - appropriate, signifcant, sf-related... as soon as I considered the idea I started to get very excited. I knew it was right just because of how I was feeling about it. I can't wait for October to roll around.
In the meantime, I'm going with B on Thursday to get her first tattoo - something that should be featured in our 'zine, should we ever get our asses together. Keep your fingers crossed but don't hold your breath.
Track Listing 08/27:
- Conquest, the White Stripes
- Where the girls are, the Gossip
- Raindrop, the Reindeer Section
- Rain, Muggs
- Love Is A Deserter, the Kills
- Asleep and Dreaming, the Magnetic Fields
- Reason Is Treason, Kasabian
- Crash on the Barrelhead, Old 97's
- Rock and Roll, Handsome Boy Modeling School
My anxiety levels are running pretty high lately. I can't turn my head off long enough to sleep. And when I finally crash, I can't stay asleep. I grind my teeth. My shoulders are wire-tight. On Sunday, I got multiple text messages from Aaron M. about a show at Edinberg Castle. I got a few more from another 805 area code, and it took me most of the day to figure out that the second set were coming from a Chad from San Luis Obispo, who happened to be drumming in one of the bands playing that night. They were both buggin' me to go to the same show. And one person, I can flake on. Two people, including one from out of town? Much harder to do.
I figured I'd go to the show, try and shake this funk, have a drink. Just one, 'cause I only had like forty bucks to my damn name. There were folk in town, you see. And I justified it by telling myself it would be much easier to fall alseep if I had a bit o' drink in me.
So, I found myself chatting up old friends over shots of good tequilla and cheap beer. The bartender either forgot to or didn't charge me for the first shot/beer combo. Good sign, since I was so close to broke. After some inital chatter, I went upstairs and immersed myself in near-pitchperfect-black while I payed the cover and juggled my beer. The band was good, but the sound guy kept staring at me. He looked sorta like an old friend. When the set was finished and the lights came up it took us both a split second before I realize he was my old friend, Zephyr. I've lived in this city nearly seven years and I can't go fuckin' anywhere. It was good to see him, I got the update on his girlfriend (she's due in november, they're having a boy, he's appropriately scared) and all and kept drinking my way through the show, extremely happy that I had made the decision to go out. Went down for another beer and ran into a guy who used to work with my ex-boy -yet another instance of someone staring at me and it taking us both a few solid minutes to place it. We make nice while moving back to the band room, he says something about ex-boy's job-change, 'oh, so he did take X's position?' I ask. 'Oh yeah, you didn't know?' he questions innocently. 'Nah,' I say as we slip back inside the darkness ' We haven't talked in a while' Then the noise of the band makes talking impossible and I slip away, grateful to be covered by the dark and comforted by the tequilla.
After the show, I am drunk (which means I must keep drinking. I don't know why this is) and manage to run into yet another friend from high school - who I barely recognize since I haven't seen him in ten years. I barely remember him. Chad puts me into a cab, I get home and crash. Hard.
In the morning, I realize that my adventure has relieved me of $30, many hours of sleep and the ability to make it to work on time. I realize when I am in the shower that I am still drunk. Then I throw up, call in with a made up pet-related excuse and go back to bed for an hour. When I wake up, I manage to eat toast and have a morning toke to even out before hopping on the bus, where all the music on my iPod (Duckie. Yes, it has a name and yes, it's Duckie.) is mellowing me out and making me feel like the world is my music video (should you care to re-create the experience there's a track listing at the end of this post, like a soundtrack to my morning). I get a window seat on the bus and marvel at how appropriate or comforting song lyrics are and somewhere around fifth and market manage to finalize my next tattoo idea.
For a while, I've been planning on getting stars on the inside of my left wrist - one for every year that I've been at 16th & mission - one star will be just an outline, the next will be blue with no outline and the third will be a pinky red outlined in black. My original plan was to also get the U.S. Dept. of Labor job code for poet in there too, until I researched it and realized they don't have a number for poet anymore. Why would they? Who makes money being a poet these days? Still depressing though....
Anyhow, I thought of this: "It is later than you think" in a scroll-y type with the stars. It is graffiti from the bathroom of Amnesia - appropriate, signifcant, sf-related... as soon as I considered the idea I started to get very excited. I knew it was right just because of how I was feeling about it. I can't wait for October to roll around.
In the meantime, I'm going with B on Thursday to get her first tattoo - something that should be featured in our 'zine, should we ever get our asses together. Keep your fingers crossed but don't hold your breath.
Track Listing 08/27:
- Conquest, the White Stripes
- Where the girls are, the Gossip
- Raindrop, the Reindeer Section
- Rain, Muggs
- Love Is A Deserter, the Kills
- Asleep and Dreaming, the Magnetic Fields
- Reason Is Treason, Kasabian
- Crash on the Barrelhead, Old 97's
- Rock and Roll, Handsome Boy Modeling School
posted by DameRight at 1:33 PM
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