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27

Jan

I Am Old At what age can you no longer subsist on just a few hours of sleep, bouncing back from fatigue with the spritely elasticity of one of those psychedelic-colored bouncy balls?Well, after some careful research (IE, getting old) I have ascertained that it all goes out the window at age 26. I am 27. DONE.  This week — which was replete with work things and life things — I only suffered through approximately 12 hours of high school-flashback ridden slumber. Which means I was basically in a David Lynchean dream state by the time I hit up the So So Glos show at Glasslands last night. My friend Alexandra who is cool and has pink hair accompanied me to said show, which also featured  Liquor Store, Sundelles and The Pharmacy. Oh, and Patrick Stickles from Titus Andronicus DJ’d. Lost as I was in my old person sleep fog, I don’t remember much about the openers, except that I liked them (all punk-leaning, no ambient stuff) and that one of the guys in The Pharmacy looked like Neil Young. He had on a super rad hat, too. Still, I had fun. There was some dancing. Hopefully out of range of the show photog. Unfortunately, Alexandra had to leave as soon as the So So Glos took the stage, thereby rapidly sapping my resolve to carry on. Truthfully, I don’t really like going to shows alone, and every time I do, it ends up being a punk show with moshing. I am a tiny person. I need my entourage of enormous friends to keep me safe from harm. Otherwise I get kicked in the face by a crowdsurfer at a Fucked Up show while trying to sing into Damian Abraham’s mic. True story. I had a fat-ish lip. I was enjoying the show. I promise you I was. But soon the lure of my bed — much closer now that I no longer live in the wilds of Greenpoint — overwhelmed me — and I ducked under a girl who was only tenuously supported by a sea of hands into the rainy night. All the way home, my footsteps seemed to mock me, beating out the words, “Old, old, old, old.” And, as if to confirm my impending downspiral into a landscape laden with pajamas before 7pm and female-pattern baldness, that night my dreams were free of high school flashbacks.  Luckily, however, I have a chance to redeem myself this Saturday, as I’m heading to Shea Stadium to see Bosco Delrey, The Pharmacy (again. I hope dude wears that hat), Fuzzy Cloaks and Japanther.  Now, however, imma take a nap.* *Note: This is a lie. 

I Am Old

At what age can you no longer subsist on just a few hours of sleep, bouncing back from fatigue with the spritely elasticity of one of those psychedelic-colored bouncy balls?Well, after some careful research (IE, getting old) I have ascertained that it all goes out the window at age 26. I am 27. DONE. 

This week — which was replete with work things and life things — I only suffered through approximately 12 hours of high school-flashback ridden slumber. Which means I was basically in a David Lynchean dream state by the time I hit up the So So Glos show at Glasslands last night.

My friend Alexandra who is cool and has pink hair accompanied me to said show, which also featured  Liquor Store, Sundelles and The Pharmacy. Oh, and Patrick Stickles from Titus Andronicus DJ’d.

Lost as I was in my old person sleep fog, I don’t remember much about the openers, except that I liked them (all punk-leaning, no ambient stuff) and that one of the guys in The Pharmacy looked like Neil Young. He had on a super rad hat, too. Still, I had fun. There was some dancing. Hopefully out of range of the show photog.

Unfortunately, Alexandra had to leave as soon as the So So Glos took the stage, thereby rapidly sapping my resolve to carry on. Truthfully, I don’t really like going to shows alone, and every time I do, it ends up being a punk show with moshing. I am a tiny person. I need my entourage of enormous friends to keep me safe from harm. Otherwise I get kicked in the face by a crowdsurfer at a Fucked Up show while trying to sing into Damian Abraham’s mic. True story. I had a fat-ish lip.

I was enjoying the show. I promise you I was. But soon the lure of my bed — much closer now that I no longer live in the wilds of Greenpoint — overwhelmed me — and I ducked under a girl who was only tenuously supported by a sea of hands into the rainy night. All the way home, my footsteps seemed to mock me, beating out the words, “Old, old, old, old.” And, as if to confirm my impending downspiral into a landscape laden with pajamas before 7pm and female-pattern baldness, that night my dreams were free of high school flashbacks. 

Luckily, however, I have a chance to redeem myself this Saturday, as I’m heading to Shea Stadium to see Bosco Delrey, The Pharmacy (again. I hope dude wears that hat), Fuzzy Cloaks and Japanther. 

Now, however, imma take a nap.*

*Note: This is a lie. 

4 weeks ago

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