A quick one, while she was away
Last night I learned some momentous things.
1) My friends understand me and refuse to let the evening be pre-emptively ruined even when I'm flipping my shit over my failure to control the universe and be omniscient (NOTE that debates exist as to whether God can be both Omniscient, Omnipotent, and Good -- I still feel like I fail).
2) The legendary lostcosmonaut actually exists and is super nice. BONUS. Thanks, poor planning that left me with an extra Swans ticket!
3) The Swans in whatever permutation are still one of my favorite bands ever.
Footnotes follow:
__1: DC Metro, you are stupid! The signs in your parking garages make no sense! Also, when a train with open doors says "No Passengers" and then changes to the desired destination one second before doors close, that could possibly lead rational people to presume that they were not supposed to be on that train and therefore miss it. Assholes.
__2: We were supposed to meet years ago and fortunately we still have each other's numbers. If you aren't reading his journal and you like life, you should be reading his journal. Adders get added. He also wrote a comick called 44 Presidents. And if you ask him to come out at the last minute and do something fun, he will probably say yes!
__3: I picked up a tape of The Swans "Filth" EP when I was about 18. I took it home and listened to it and it nearly made me throw up. Not because it was bad. Because I was a tender and sensitive thing. My friend pixyled got me into their prettier stuff and then I was able to settle down and appreciate the deep dark groovy ugly. Went and saw them perform at the old 9:30 club at 9th and F NW with obscurerichard in 1995 and it was like watching a group of people perform alchemy. Later in life when I watched world-class jazz ensembles perform, it all made sense. The eye contact is the best part only then there's the gut-bending synthesis of personal virtuosity into proud egoless noise glorious noise. In 1995 they had Jarboe, their sacrificial lamb to scenester misogyny (in Amerika they call us Yokos) turned goth icon chanteuse. This time it was a gleeful sausagefest. And both angry and affable! "Fuck you!" is a term of affection! I went to the merch table afterwards to get a Tshirt since they had one with the "Filth" icon (they had them in children's sizes as well, which warmed my GenX little heart), and, um, Michael Gira was there hanging out to sign autographs. So I was like, "Hi there. How are you?" "Tired!" "Of course you're tired, you all played your asses off!" and generally acted like a starstruck doofus. I don't like autographs so I didn't get one ["I could just sign it "To Amy" -- "Oh, no, it's just so nice to meet you!"], but he offered a handshake which was kind and of course I did that. *DIES*
1) My friends understand me and refuse to let the evening be pre-emptively ruined even when I'm flipping my shit over my failure to control the universe and be omniscient (NOTE that debates exist as to whether God can be both Omniscient, Omnipotent, and Good -- I still feel like I fail).
2) The legendary lostcosmonaut actually exists and is super nice. BONUS. Thanks, poor planning that left me with an extra Swans ticket!
3) The Swans in whatever permutation are still one of my favorite bands ever.
Footnotes follow:
__1: DC Metro, you are stupid! The signs in your parking garages make no sense! Also, when a train with open doors says "No Passengers" and then changes to the desired destination one second before doors close, that could possibly lead rational people to presume that they were not supposed to be on that train and therefore miss it. Assholes.
__2: We were supposed to meet years ago and fortunately we still have each other's numbers. If you aren't reading his journal and you like life, you should be reading his journal. Adders get added. He also wrote a comick called 44 Presidents. And if you ask him to come out at the last minute and do something fun, he will probably say yes!
__3: I picked up a tape of The Swans "Filth" EP when I was about 18. I took it home and listened to it and it nearly made me throw up. Not because it was bad. Because I was a tender and sensitive thing. My friend pixyled got me into their prettier stuff and then I was able to settle down and appreciate the deep dark groovy ugly. Went and saw them perform at the old 9:30 club at 9th and F NW with obscurerichard in 1995 and it was like watching a group of people perform alchemy. Later in life when I watched world-class jazz ensembles perform, it all made sense. The eye contact is the best part only then there's the gut-bending synthesis of personal virtuosity into proud egoless noise glorious noise. In 1995 they had Jarboe, their sacrificial lamb to scenester misogyny (in Amerika they call us Yokos) turned goth icon chanteuse. This time it was a gleeful sausagefest. And both angry and affable! "Fuck you!" is a term of affection! I went to the merch table afterwards to get a Tshirt since they had one with the "Filth" icon (they had them in children's sizes as well, which warmed my GenX little heart), and, um, Michael Gira was there hanging out to sign autographs. So I was like, "Hi there. How are you?" "Tired!" "Of course you're tired, you all played your asses off!" and generally acted like a starstruck doofus. I don't like autographs so I didn't get one ["I could just sign it "To Amy" -- "Oh, no, it's just so nice to meet you!"], but he offered a handshake which was kind and of course I did that. *DIES*