Last night I finally found a place where I fit in. It,s a place where I can go and look like everybody else and be just as pretentious as I want without any fear of reproach. I can be who I really am – A self-important, snobby, know-it-all, art fag, critic. Nobody will even notice because they will be too busy acting exactly like me; which I can sum up in four sweet little words. Too. Cool. For. School.
The wondrous, magical place I visited and loved so very much was a way-too-expensive show in the way-too-perfect Smokeland, California. It was great seeing such hilly terrain covered in so many bikes that have to be pedaled constantly. Practical. There were so many people there with high-waisted pants and suspenders and V-neck sweaters, and bad attitudes, and weed smokes. It was home.
The first band wasn,t great. They were trying really hard to be German. In between songs the bass player told us all a story about how, when he was younger, he had this disease that caused severe neck stiffness. A few years ago he had a very successful operation to cure his painful ailment and he now has the neck of a goose rather than a human. You could really tell that he was enjoying his new found mobility as he constantly looked like he was foraging for invisible worms in the air in front of him. The guitar player was a fat lesbian with an overbite and the imagination drummer was a skinny white skater that loves rap and wears those Osiris D3s with the giant tongue. He kept his weed in there.
Epidemic - I Am Compltley Oprationa l
Jab Mica Och El - ABC Hej I,m Cola
The good band was good. It was tough to see them though because everybody kept holding up their iPads to take pictures, or just to show off that they had iPads. Somebody held up brake pads. Everybody smoked all of the weed but it didn,t put them in as good of a mood as you would have thought. When I tried to punker my way to the front I got stopped by a manicured guy in a striped shirt and a girl wearing a bow in her hair made out of tinfoil. She kept touching it throughout the night to make sure it was still tinfoil. It was a nice change from your standard punk fare however. Rather than calling their skinhead friend to come kick your ass for trying to move to the front, they just live-blogged about how dumb you looked in your clothes that they were also wearing. A lot of blogging went on that night. And subsequently this morning.
Most of the people there last night were heavily influenced by that Jersey Show on MTV. They thought we were listening to house music and that they were supposed to get all Snooki. I had to look up that name just now. You know, because it,s not a real word. Last night I realized that the crowd I fit in the best with is the one that acts like they can afford stuff. I can,t, so it,s still as dramatically uncomfortable as being with any other group of people. As a general rule, I don,t like the kind of giant group gathering where I fit in. But it is one of the few places where I can unabashedly push the short, hairy girl in front of me as much as I want when her hemp bag keeps rubbing against me.
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