Breathing Hard

Last night I went to a dumb punk show. It was dumb because punkers are dumb. There was so much dark clothing and black girls with blond hair and leather and patches and refusal to follow societal norms of basic human hygiene and courtesy. Somebody dropped their weed pipe and the weed pipe broke and spilled weed and pipe glass all over the floor. 4:20 foul. As some girl was throwing the smokey shards in the trash, my friend suggested that somebody scrape the resin out of the bowl and smoke that. A real punker would never let weed scrapings go to waste.

I spent a lot of the show outside trying to absorb the local character and secondhand smoke and spit. A lot of people were spitting. I also wanted to watch the homeless guy that was in the alley shake as he tried to fight off his internal demons in a restless, dreamless sleep. Myself and two of my friends we sitting in the small, holocaust-style barbed wire enclosed area outside when two strange, office casual, mid thirties women came out and asked for cigarettes. They stood on the other side of the fence and one of them started weeping. She was very upset about her treatment by the patrons of the boring show.

Deerhoof - Deerhoof VS. Evil
She explained to her friend that, ,,I should be at a nice bar sipping cocktails. Somebody in there stepped on my foot and now it,s probably all bloody and swollen. I don,t want to get punched anymore. I,m thirty-one years old, I can,t deal with this. Nobody has a cigarette. Brad is being a total douche bag. I am so pissed off that you are the only person that came out here. Somebody kicked my leg".

All of this was said with the eerie wail that adult women have when they are crying or trying to get attention. Her name was Ryan but I bet it was spelled Ryenne. It was all very surreal. Eventually, Ryenne,s friend convinced her to go back inside because it was cold and they were there to support a friend. The friend they were supporting was a bald guy with a matted bug beard and fingerless skeleton gloves that may or may not have glowed in the dark at some point. I am so glad that they both paid to go to a dumb show and got their Target brand faux leather shoes stepped on by some ugly kids wearing Crass patches. Thanks to them, I have decided to kill myself before I turn forty.