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(we got away with it all, by the way)
Jan. 16th, 2004 01:48 amThe SON gig was a bit of a car crash and featured vomiting; the Bad Fucks gig saw stick-throwing, giggling and - cripes - moshing. Lo, by Monday morning there were next gigs lined up for both, and in the case of SON in Cambridge this Saturday I'm bringing Dead Empire with me.
Last night saw the reconvening of the Bad Fucks in pursuit of more songs; we chased them hard enough but it remains to be seen if we caught them. Must find a copy of Wipe Out and learn about surf drums. Of course I haven't written them down, what do you think I am, honestly.
Existentialism led me to follow the others to the Pit in the small hours. Last night may have been the first time ever I'd been there and not danced at all in any way. I could feel it happening and I'm not sure I like it. Perhaps today's miserable lack of focus is my body protesting about it. Perhaps I should do something about it before I go to bed, mysterously clanking interfloor plumbing and all. Downstairs seem to have stopped talking to me at all, including never registering problems with noise any more; if I know I'm fairly careful about the noise, does this mean they just don't like me anyway?
Half a lifetime's practice of being female and over six foot has not led to any resolution of its basic problems, because the only problems with it are other people's and they keep rising anew. I find I may finally be developing cunning skill with weaponry around it, however. After the Pit there was the inevitable Market Diner and a pissed idiot was making a fool of himself, harrasing women and generally showboating for the benefit of his mates. Assuming I was being included in his declamations, I offered some lame insult in return; pissed idiot starts showboating over this bloke over there who's an obvious faggot. I don't remember the details too clearly but I managed to make it all hinge on that he thought I was a man, and somehow pulled off his debunking right enough that he said not another word til I left the caff ten minutes later. I realise this is trivia, but I never used to be able to do that.
And now I shall dance.
Last night saw the reconvening of the Bad Fucks in pursuit of more songs; we chased them hard enough but it remains to be seen if we caught them. Must find a copy of Wipe Out and learn about surf drums. Of course I haven't written them down, what do you think I am, honestly.
Existentialism led me to follow the others to the Pit in the small hours. Last night may have been the first time ever I'd been there and not danced at all in any way. I could feel it happening and I'm not sure I like it. Perhaps today's miserable lack of focus is my body protesting about it. Perhaps I should do something about it before I go to bed, mysterously clanking interfloor plumbing and all. Downstairs seem to have stopped talking to me at all, including never registering problems with noise any more; if I know I'm fairly careful about the noise, does this mean they just don't like me anyway?
Half a lifetime's practice of being female and over six foot has not led to any resolution of its basic problems, because the only problems with it are other people's and they keep rising anew. I find I may finally be developing cunning skill with weaponry around it, however. After the Pit there was the inevitable Market Diner and a pissed idiot was making a fool of himself, harrasing women and generally showboating for the benefit of his mates. Assuming I was being included in his declamations, I offered some lame insult in return; pissed idiot starts showboating over this bloke over there who's an obvious faggot. I don't remember the details too clearly but I managed to make it all hinge on that he thought I was a man, and somehow pulled off his debunking right enough that he said not another word til I left the caff ten minutes later. I realise this is trivia, but I never used to be able to do that.
And now I shall dance.