What is up with me going to shows all of the sudden? I don,t like it. I don,t like being at shows and I don,t like paying for them or driving to them or staying up super late. I don,t what what my problem is, but I definitely have one.
I went to a show the other night in a giant, palatial building that was filled with middle aged white guys who wore ugly hats. I had been to the building before, but it was very different this time. Instead of being a big, pretty, open room, it was filled with tables and chairs. Everybody was sitting down and eating thirty dollar steak dinners with garlic French fries and eleven dollar drinks. It was so bizarre and great.
Warthog - Prison EP
I didn,t get pushed or bumped into or yelled at all night. I loved it. Everybody was so old and rich. They were so old and rich that I was the only person who stood up and moved to the front when the good band started playing. It clearly bummed the band that only one person was within twenty feet of them so after the first song, they said that it was alright if people wanted to move closer. Most of the millionaires scoffed, but a handful of people wiped the onion gravy from their jowls and stepped forward. They didn,t stay standing, though. They lowered their great, heavy bodies to the floor and tried as hard as they could not to fall asleep in the dark, warm room.
It was pretty much a perfect audience. They were quiet and there was only one weirdo doing strange uncle dances. He sucked and so did the lady who sat next to me when I first arrived who wouldn,t stop talking to her friends about her kids, Zephyr and Indigo. I feel so bad for those kids, but I feel even worse for me because I had to hear her talk about them. Everybody else was alright. I can always appreciate a group of wealthy white people who love shoveling beef into their failing bodies.
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