I'd smoked my brain the night before
I haven't walked into work with bloodshot eyes in a while. Every square I see is turning into a trapazoid as even my vision is sagging this morning. There's a whirling dervish in my tummy and I have more tangles than hair.
I had already downed a forty while continuing to make silly pictures (see below) for my far off friend by the time Blue arrived.
[thats me going "eek!" from when the Walrus smashed his face into the glass and I thought the aquarium was going to collapse.]
We drank more as we watched a vintage Wire performance on DVD.
And then we headed out.
Our first stop was a bar around the corner where we saw some girl stumbling around in a flapper outfit so we followed her in to find a band a'blazin'. And I mean a fucking band. Two to three drummers, and others on bongos, marching band drums, etc. surrounded by guitarists, bassist, numerous trumpeteers, saxiphonists, trombone players, and on and on. There were more people in the band than in the audience and they played a cacaphonous mess of horn blasts, not unlike a jazzier version of the sunshine funk that makes The Go! Team record the theme to the best day of your life.
After a couple numbers, we headed down to an old haunt that we used to frequent when we were roommates. Its changed owners and names a few times since then, but enough of the bar looked the same to immediately remind us of the days in years past when we'd get smacked out of our minds on H and go watch the local resident band (which wasAmbulance LTD). Our bodies began to quiver with anticipation as if they remembered the place and expected another taste for old time's sake. Fighting our cravings for old and terrible habits, we hid downstairs in the one place where you could smoke.
We shared cigarettes with some musician and his girlfriend, talking about the subtle genius of Kris Kristofferson (esp. Sunday Morning Coming Down, made famous by Johnny Cash), when what do they play on the PA? "Heroin" by the Velvet Underground. Fucking sadists.
We darted back to the bar and quickly downed another drink, Blue madly flicking at his vein the whole time.
The door guy for the backroom had abandoned his post, so Blue and I ducked in to see the final band.
Their midwestern mix of indie-AC/DC-ska-metal-James Brown style funk/soul wasn't the most amazing thing ever, but a whole lotta fun, but what really made us smile was all the synchronized dancing between the guitarist, the bassist, and the keyboardist. There's something about 3 boys from Madison busting into overly enthusiastic "running mans" in perfect syncronicity without missing a beat thats really quite fucking entertaining. All 8 people there had giant smiles on their faces. So if you're holding a birthday party any time soon, I highly recommend you book Awesome Car Funmaker if you wanna get that party started.
I had already downed a forty while continuing to make silly pictures (see below) for my far off friend by the time Blue arrived.
[thats me going "eek!" from when the Walrus smashed his face into the glass and I thought the aquarium was going to collapse.]
We drank more as we watched a vintage Wire performance on DVD.
And then we headed out.
Our first stop was a bar around the corner where we saw some girl stumbling around in a flapper outfit so we followed her in to find a band a'blazin'. And I mean a fucking band. Two to three drummers, and others on bongos, marching band drums, etc. surrounded by guitarists, bassist, numerous trumpeteers, saxiphonists, trombone players, and on and on. There were more people in the band than in the audience and they played a cacaphonous mess of horn blasts, not unlike a jazzier version of the sunshine funk that makes The Go! Team record the theme to the best day of your life.
After a couple numbers, we headed down to an old haunt that we used to frequent when we were roommates. Its changed owners and names a few times since then, but enough of the bar looked the same to immediately remind us of the days in years past when we'd get smacked out of our minds on H and go watch the local resident band (which wasAmbulance LTD). Our bodies began to quiver with anticipation as if they remembered the place and expected another taste for old time's sake. Fighting our cravings for old and terrible habits, we hid downstairs in the one place where you could smoke.
We shared cigarettes with some musician and his girlfriend, talking about the subtle genius of Kris Kristofferson (esp. Sunday Morning Coming Down, made famous by Johnny Cash), when what do they play on the PA? "Heroin" by the Velvet Underground. Fucking sadists.
We darted back to the bar and quickly downed another drink, Blue madly flicking at his vein the whole time.
The door guy for the backroom had abandoned his post, so Blue and I ducked in to see the final band.
Their midwestern mix of indie-AC/DC-ska-metal-James Brown style funk/soul wasn't the most amazing thing ever, but a whole lotta fun, but what really made us smile was all the synchronized dancing between the guitarist, the bassist, and the keyboardist. There's something about 3 boys from Madison busting into overly enthusiastic "running mans" in perfect syncronicity without missing a beat thats really quite fucking entertaining. All 8 people there had giant smiles on their faces. So if you're holding a birthday party any time soon, I highly recommend you book Awesome Car Funmaker if you wanna get that party started.
posted by Greg the Boyfriend at 9:34 AM
2 Comments:
bleh. Your night sounds more interesting than mine but i feel the same way. I wish I would have slept longer than just a few hours.
the skirt of the dervishes are the shroud of the ego. and the hat is the gravestone of the ego. so you mean your ego lies dead in your tummy.
oh I loved it!
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