thebeliever

Saw the Black Lips in SF this last week, along with Nobunny and Personal and the Pizzas. The concert was fun. Increasingly, I find myself abou ten years older than the mass of people at the concerts I go to-- which I could give a fuck less about, it'd just be nice to have someone else to go with. (Cue sound of crowd wailing like babies.)

Then again, I went and saw A Single Man in the theatre, I was at least ten years younger than the rest of the crowd.

Which leads me to ask the question: Exactly how fucking weird AM I? Where the hell do I fit in? I don't plan on spending my days indoors reading Proust and listening to Morrissey, bemoaning the Uncaring World (well, at times). I'd rather go on a picnic damn it, suck some wine down, debate about books over dinner with friends...

Sigh... I dunno. I've only been out of Clearlake for about a month. I guess I need to calm my ass down.

Anyhow-- ahem-- the Black Lips were great. Tons of beautiful garage punk all jammed up into your face and brain. People slammed all around while I slammed beers up in the balcony. I absorbed the energy like some vampire (see Poe, "Man of the Crowd") and then drove out of the city, feelig a curious mixture of satisfaction and longing.

Anybody out there?