A separate account of Denton Road Trip
At 2:30 in the afternoon I got off my pajama pants-clad ass and jumped into the shower. Then I got bundled up indie style with my boot cut jeans, loafers, urban t-shirt, hoodie, jacket, and laure's scarf. I plugged my ipod into the computer, which immediately shot the data making up the new album of Broken Social Scene through the firewire and into the pearly white device. Then I found a route to Denton on google maps. Badassified and ready to go, I hopped in the car and sped off to school.
I arrived at school at 3:10 and called Mitchel, who said he was "on the tollway."
"Great," I said. "See you soon." I was naive for believing him so readily.
Thirty minutes later I realized Brian Huselton was parked next to me and that we were both going to Denton. Soon after that Mitchel and Tommy arrived. We piled in to Maria, the black infiniti qx4 and pumped up the Tom Waits. Since no one else had the faintest idea of where to go, I silently thanked maps.google.com and my foresight.
Denton was about 30 miles away, but with traffic it took over an hour. We listened to a shuffled playlist of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Broken Social Scene, Beck, White Stripes, Gorillaz, and New Pornographers. I'm pleased to say that by the time we got to Denton, Brian wanted to get clap your hands and Mitchel took back every negative thing he's ever said about the New Pornographers.
Having arrived in Denton, the knowledge that google maps bestowed upon me became useless. I felt my way about (not literally) driving towards a series of tallish buildings I deemed "downtown." On the way we passed Morison's Corn Kits, an eerie art deco building that we decided looked like the place where Batman fights super villains.
When we arrived "downtown," we realized we were actually at Texas Women's University. We promptly asked a guy in a pickup at the stoplight where UNT was, and he told us it was off of Bonnie Brae. We all agreed that because of his kindness, everyone in Denton is just soooo nice! Then we all made out. Just making sure you're paying attention.
Next we found UNT and parked next to the stadium and froze our little indie asses off trying to find Lauren's dorm. We decided if someone asks we're a sophomore and some freshmen burnouts who don't do any work. As we strode up the police infested streets of UNT, strange wind chime-ish bells rang in our ears and the smell of freshly baked cookies filled our nostrils. We thought perhaps some strange and evil ice cream/cookie man was luring us in with his smells and then slicing us up and serving us in the UNT cafeteria.
Lauren greeted us inside Bruce Hall and we headed up to her dorm room, a tiny, two bed space with floors piled high with dirty clothes, video games, works of art, etc. Having taken in the atmosphere, I inquired about a place to eat, cause I was fucking starving. Lauren said there was a place on the edge of campus called Tomato that served excellent pizza.
I led the motley group through the back alleys of UNT and found Tomato, a quaint little college pizza place with an original Tetris arcade game inside. Now we realized that only Brian and I carried any bit of cash. Except Mitchel's lousy three bucks. So I bought pizza and a drink for myself, Tommy, and Mitchel and we gossiped and made jokes about UNT students smoking pot. Then we realized UNT isn't particularly known for pot. Then we made weed jokes anyway.
We left Tomato and walked past Cool Beans coffee and a Copy Center that looked like it was painted by the cast of Hair. We stopped dead in front of a political statement. No wait, it was a car. Covered with sharpy. The name of every single American soldier killed in Iraq. A large quote on the hood from George Bush Sr. proclaimed how retarded it would be to invade and take over Iraq. Whoops.
We were ineffably drawn into the adjacent store, a weird, marijuana-injected place with African drums, digery doos, harpsichords, jewelry, Indian rugs, buddha statues, rasta-wear, bumper stickers, and buttons that read "Who Would Jesus Bomb" and another that said "Hey anti abortion people, don't get one!"
Just across the street from the liberal haven were people protesting the Vagina Monologues. A clueless-but-fiery little protestant girl and a dumb, boring Catholic guy who didn't really know why he was there. Tommy assumed a Muslim alias and the rest of us started challenging everything each of the protesters had to say. Mitchel mentioned that the play was giving confidence to women and deploring shame. I mentioned that the play promotes women's rights. The guy riposted that it was an extreme view. Of course it is, how else can theatre induce any sort of change?! Meanwhile the chick was saying something about rape going up after the 60s free love movement... Ah! The things you'll see on a college campus!
We walked off disgustedly. For the next hour and half and then on and off through the night we made fun of the fuck-tards. Even going so low as to say the guy was a eunuch. I mean COME ON he wasn't even looking me in the eye. Get your balls back, fucking eunuch. We wandered into a CD store and Tommy got a CD and I got Of Montreal. Then we made our way back to the car. Mitchel and I sang songs from Guys and Dolls. Brian and Tommy bitched about Mitchel and I singing songs from Guys and Dolls.
I found Sycamore and we headed East towards Rubber Gloves where Astronautalis was playing. We passed over train tracks and into an industrial back alley with old warehouses, gravel roads, and enormous pieces of steel on flatbeds. Passing through there, we ended up in a ghetto neighborhood and realized we had passed Rubber Gloves, but how?
We realized Rubber Gloves was indeed in the industrial back alley with bars on the windows. We cautiously walked to the door, which read "Warning! Partying!" or something like that. Then we dared each other to knock and finally someone did. A goth girl opened the door and said they don't open till 9. We all got back into the car and headed towards campus, but then I saw the old Corn Kits building and we decided to have a look around.
We sneaked around the old building trying ot find a way inside and worrying about a security man shooting us for about a half hour. Then we decided to just ask an employee who was on a cigarette break if we could have a tour. She said corn kits were for corn bread and tours were between 7 and 5. We vowed to come back and tour the factory some day, armed with hairnets. It was time to go back to Rubber Gloves.
We got our Xs and sat at a booth complaining about the Led Zeppelin that was playing and talking about all of the characters we had met that day. A totally indie looking dude came in, cool as can be, and shook hands with the bouncer. Mitchel and Brian started to shit themselves and informed us that this man was Astronautalis. I watched as his puma track jacket disappeared behind the door to the stage.
At ten, Will E. Lee, a local, started to play. He had some crafty lyrics and was altogether entertaining, so I bought his 5 dollar album, complete with hand drawn cover and memorex cd with Will E. Lee's signature. Next was some christian asshole. His frantic vocals made us hold our ears as he screamed out "I la la looooove you" in a song dedicated to his girlfriend (read large hairy gay lover). Other lyrics include "angels don't spread their legs, they spread their wings and flyyy." Ugh. Mitchel and Tommy and I, sat on the side scene as can be and raised our noses high and critiqued the sorry son of a bitch. Finally it was time for Astronautalis.
He was charming. He was passionate. He was talented. He was a rapper. His presence filled the room as he wove his way through a story about him asking a girl on a date during a hurricane. The highlight was his free style segment, where he let's the audience offer subjects for him to rap about. Both Tommy's suggestion of George Harrison and Mitchel's of Brokeback Mountain were chosen along with Mario, zombies, and tupperware. He told the story of himself being cornered by zombies, including John Lennon and George Harrison, but he is saved by Mario and Luigi. The zombies get to him eventually, however, and they store his brain in tupperware for later. At the end his last number brought the house down; everyone moved to the beat and he looked ten feet tall. Afterwards Brian and I got Astronautalis shirts and Tommy had him sign his ipod case. I think he wrote something like "Now that I'm ruining your ipod case, erase all of the songs on here except mine and [some other band]."
Thoroughly satisfied, we piled back into Maria and pumped up Beck as we rode back to Jesuit. As we entered the Jesuit parking lot, Interpol's "PDA" turned on and we hopped out and danced in the Jesuit parking lot. An appropriate ending for our first road trip to Denton. It was quite an adventure.
I arrived at school at 3:10 and called Mitchel, who said he was "on the tollway."
"Great," I said. "See you soon." I was naive for believing him so readily.
Thirty minutes later I realized Brian Huselton was parked next to me and that we were both going to Denton. Soon after that Mitchel and Tommy arrived. We piled in to Maria, the black infiniti qx4 and pumped up the Tom Waits. Since no one else had the faintest idea of where to go, I silently thanked maps.google.com and my foresight.
Denton was about 30 miles away, but with traffic it took over an hour. We listened to a shuffled playlist of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Broken Social Scene, Beck, White Stripes, Gorillaz, and New Pornographers. I'm pleased to say that by the time we got to Denton, Brian wanted to get clap your hands and Mitchel took back every negative thing he's ever said about the New Pornographers.
Having arrived in Denton, the knowledge that google maps bestowed upon me became useless. I felt my way about (not literally) driving towards a series of tallish buildings I deemed "downtown." On the way we passed Morison's Corn Kits, an eerie art deco building that we decided looked like the place where Batman fights super villains.
When we arrived "downtown," we realized we were actually at Texas Women's University. We promptly asked a guy in a pickup at the stoplight where UNT was, and he told us it was off of Bonnie Brae. We all agreed that because of his kindness, everyone in Denton is just soooo nice! Then we all made out. Just making sure you're paying attention.
Next we found UNT and parked next to the stadium and froze our little indie asses off trying to find Lauren's dorm. We decided if someone asks we're a sophomore and some freshmen burnouts who don't do any work. As we strode up the police infested streets of UNT, strange wind chime-ish bells rang in our ears and the smell of freshly baked cookies filled our nostrils. We thought perhaps some strange and evil ice cream/cookie man was luring us in with his smells and then slicing us up and serving us in the UNT cafeteria.
Lauren greeted us inside Bruce Hall and we headed up to her dorm room, a tiny, two bed space with floors piled high with dirty clothes, video games, works of art, etc. Having taken in the atmosphere, I inquired about a place to eat, cause I was fucking starving. Lauren said there was a place on the edge of campus called Tomato that served excellent pizza.
I led the motley group through the back alleys of UNT and found Tomato, a quaint little college pizza place with an original Tetris arcade game inside. Now we realized that only Brian and I carried any bit of cash. Except Mitchel's lousy three bucks. So I bought pizza and a drink for myself, Tommy, and Mitchel and we gossiped and made jokes about UNT students smoking pot. Then we realized UNT isn't particularly known for pot. Then we made weed jokes anyway.
We left Tomato and walked past Cool Beans coffee and a Copy Center that looked like it was painted by the cast of Hair. We stopped dead in front of a political statement. No wait, it was a car. Covered with sharpy. The name of every single American soldier killed in Iraq. A large quote on the hood from George Bush Sr. proclaimed how retarded it would be to invade and take over Iraq. Whoops.
We were ineffably drawn into the adjacent store, a weird, marijuana-injected place with African drums, digery doos, harpsichords, jewelry, Indian rugs, buddha statues, rasta-wear, bumper stickers, and buttons that read "Who Would Jesus Bomb" and another that said "Hey anti abortion people, don't get one!"
Just across the street from the liberal haven were people protesting the Vagina Monologues. A clueless-but-fiery little protestant girl and a dumb, boring Catholic guy who didn't really know why he was there. Tommy assumed a Muslim alias and the rest of us started challenging everything each of the protesters had to say. Mitchel mentioned that the play was giving confidence to women and deploring shame. I mentioned that the play promotes women's rights. The guy riposted that it was an extreme view. Of course it is, how else can theatre induce any sort of change?! Meanwhile the chick was saying something about rape going up after the 60s free love movement... Ah! The things you'll see on a college campus!
We walked off disgustedly. For the next hour and half and then on and off through the night we made fun of the fuck-tards. Even going so low as to say the guy was a eunuch. I mean COME ON he wasn't even looking me in the eye. Get your balls back, fucking eunuch. We wandered into a CD store and Tommy got a CD and I got Of Montreal. Then we made our way back to the car. Mitchel and I sang songs from Guys and Dolls. Brian and Tommy bitched about Mitchel and I singing songs from Guys and Dolls.
I found Sycamore and we headed East towards Rubber Gloves where Astronautalis was playing. We passed over train tracks and into an industrial back alley with old warehouses, gravel roads, and enormous pieces of steel on flatbeds. Passing through there, we ended up in a ghetto neighborhood and realized we had passed Rubber Gloves, but how?
We realized Rubber Gloves was indeed in the industrial back alley with bars on the windows. We cautiously walked to the door, which read "Warning! Partying!" or something like that. Then we dared each other to knock and finally someone did. A goth girl opened the door and said they don't open till 9. We all got back into the car and headed towards campus, but then I saw the old Corn Kits building and we decided to have a look around.
We sneaked around the old building trying ot find a way inside and worrying about a security man shooting us for about a half hour. Then we decided to just ask an employee who was on a cigarette break if we could have a tour. She said corn kits were for corn bread and tours were between 7 and 5. We vowed to come back and tour the factory some day, armed with hairnets. It was time to go back to Rubber Gloves.
We got our Xs and sat at a booth complaining about the Led Zeppelin that was playing and talking about all of the characters we had met that day. A totally indie looking dude came in, cool as can be, and shook hands with the bouncer. Mitchel and Brian started to shit themselves and informed us that this man was Astronautalis. I watched as his puma track jacket disappeared behind the door to the stage.
At ten, Will E. Lee, a local, started to play. He had some crafty lyrics and was altogether entertaining, so I bought his 5 dollar album, complete with hand drawn cover and memorex cd with Will E. Lee's signature. Next was some christian asshole. His frantic vocals made us hold our ears as he screamed out "I la la looooove you" in a song dedicated to his girlfriend (read large hairy gay lover). Other lyrics include "angels don't spread their legs, they spread their wings and flyyy." Ugh. Mitchel and Tommy and I, sat on the side scene as can be and raised our noses high and critiqued the sorry son of a bitch. Finally it was time for Astronautalis.
He was charming. He was passionate. He was talented. He was a rapper. His presence filled the room as he wove his way through a story about him asking a girl on a date during a hurricane. The highlight was his free style segment, where he let's the audience offer subjects for him to rap about. Both Tommy's suggestion of George Harrison and Mitchel's of Brokeback Mountain were chosen along with Mario, zombies, and tupperware. He told the story of himself being cornered by zombies, including John Lennon and George Harrison, but he is saved by Mario and Luigi. The zombies get to him eventually, however, and they store his brain in tupperware for later. At the end his last number brought the house down; everyone moved to the beat and he looked ten feet tall. Afterwards Brian and I got Astronautalis shirts and Tommy had him sign his ipod case. I think he wrote something like "Now that I'm ruining your ipod case, erase all of the songs on here except mine and [some other band]."
Thoroughly satisfied, we piled back into Maria and pumped up Beck as we rode back to Jesuit. As we entered the Jesuit parking lot, Interpol's "PDA" turned on and we hopped out and danced in the Jesuit parking lot. An appropriate ending for our first road trip to Denton. It was quite an adventure.