Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Tell me I'm not busy
Yesterday was quite a day. Studied briefly in the AM before work. Went to work for a while, studying after work and before DB practice. Practiced then went home and cleaned up. Stopped by a bbq on the way to a concert.
Yup. Hank III once again. And a hell of a show it was (of course). Hank didn't come on until almost 11pm, and I was up against a pillar next to the bar. The place was packed and crazy from the get-go. The crowd was an amazing mix of people: bikers, hipsters, punks, rednecks, old and young, tattoos everywhere. There were even a couple of yuppie looking dudes walking around looking (and feeling, from the way they were talking) a way out of place. I was nice and cozy, tucked away with a good view of the stage and within an arm's length of the bar (which ran out of Iron City beer way too early. Fortunately they had a ready supply of Miller High Life to step in).
The mosh pit was going immediately. The front half or so of the place was bouncing and dancing and slamming and rollicking well. When I turned to see how the crowd behind me was doing, I was stunned at the dour looks and lack of animation at virtually everyone behind me. Huh.
At some point, and older lady (not that old) and her fireplug shaped man walked up and took root ahead of me (believe it or not, I was taller than both of them!). No worries, until this lady started staring at me, trying to talk to me, telling me how she was an old hippie who simply wanted to flail dance because that is what hippies do and what is wrong with all those people flinging around up there? (While saying this, she was shoving anyone who came near her). Then she started grabbing my hand, hugging my arm, trying to rest her face against mine...I felt like my brother (older crazy girls love him). I ignored her, and finally she left me alone.
People were getting kicked out, but I saw no fights. Ole' Hank was cussin' up a storm and his throat sounded raw as hell. Nothing that a rotating stream of whiskey throat lozenge spray and water couldn't take care of! Tributes were paid by way of song to Hank Sr and Jr, DAC, Wayne Hancock....good times. Before he came on the speakers were blasting DAC, Hanks, Merle, Waylon, WIllie....and some crazy masher music.
Hell of a show. I left around 1am a bit dazed, deafer, and quite wired. I didn't stay for the second set (thrash metal), as I had work to do. Plus, I was dangerously close to getting into the pit. Don't want to do that, might break a hip!
I did not make it to work early today.
But I did take my accounting final.
Tonight I have to try and fix up my bike. Start learning languages. And get into James Joyce's 'Ulysses'. After all, Friday is 'Bloom's Day'! I am heading to a bar to listen to people read the book. I am told this one bar is going to try and have it read aloud. All of it. In one day. It took me I don't know how many train rides, flights and beach time to get thru it. Amazing, if they can do it. Gotta put out a call for auctioneers, I think. I'll let you know how it goes.
Tomorrow night after practice I'm meeting up with other cyclists to watch 'breaking away' or 'break away' I forget. Good flick, complete with a Beck look-alike!
Time to start dinner.
Tired....
Yup. Hank III once again. And a hell of a show it was (of course). Hank didn't come on until almost 11pm, and I was up against a pillar next to the bar. The place was packed and crazy from the get-go. The crowd was an amazing mix of people: bikers, hipsters, punks, rednecks, old and young, tattoos everywhere. There were even a couple of yuppie looking dudes walking around looking (and feeling, from the way they were talking) a way out of place. I was nice and cozy, tucked away with a good view of the stage and within an arm's length of the bar (which ran out of Iron City beer way too early. Fortunately they had a ready supply of Miller High Life to step in).
The mosh pit was going immediately. The front half or so of the place was bouncing and dancing and slamming and rollicking well. When I turned to see how the crowd behind me was doing, I was stunned at the dour looks and lack of animation at virtually everyone behind me. Huh.
At some point, and older lady (not that old) and her fireplug shaped man walked up and took root ahead of me (believe it or not, I was taller than both of them!). No worries, until this lady started staring at me, trying to talk to me, telling me how she was an old hippie who simply wanted to flail dance because that is what hippies do and what is wrong with all those people flinging around up there? (While saying this, she was shoving anyone who came near her). Then she started grabbing my hand, hugging my arm, trying to rest her face against mine...I felt like my brother (older crazy girls love him). I ignored her, and finally she left me alone.
People were getting kicked out, but I saw no fights. Ole' Hank was cussin' up a storm and his throat sounded raw as hell. Nothing that a rotating stream of whiskey throat lozenge spray and water couldn't take care of! Tributes were paid by way of song to Hank Sr and Jr, DAC, Wayne Hancock....good times. Before he came on the speakers were blasting DAC, Hanks, Merle, Waylon, WIllie....and some crazy masher music.
Hell of a show. I left around 1am a bit dazed, deafer, and quite wired. I didn't stay for the second set (thrash metal), as I had work to do. Plus, I was dangerously close to getting into the pit. Don't want to do that, might break a hip!
I did not make it to work early today.
But I did take my accounting final.
Tonight I have to try and fix up my bike. Start learning languages. And get into James Joyce's 'Ulysses'. After all, Friday is 'Bloom's Day'! I am heading to a bar to listen to people read the book. I am told this one bar is going to try and have it read aloud. All of it. In one day. It took me I don't know how many train rides, flights and beach time to get thru it. Amazing, if they can do it. Gotta put out a call for auctioneers, I think. I'll let you know how it goes.
Tomorrow night after practice I'm meeting up with other cyclists to watch 'breaking away' or 'break away' I forget. Good flick, complete with a Beck look-alike!
Time to start dinner.
Tired....
Comments:
Post a Comment
