Homage.
Sunday night, Mark, Cutler, and I went to see ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead at the Middle East in Massachusetts. Max was supposed to accompany us, but forgot to ask for the night off, so after calling about 20 people to ask if they wanted to come, Cutler took us up on it. The show was pretty great...the first band, Midnight Masses, was a bit too creepy-Christian, but they had a few nice moments. Funeral Party was next, and they were pretty great...lots of energy, rockin' and dancey. Trail of Dead were amazing...they get really into it when they play, so much so that a lot of things got broken and people got hurt...not severely, but...Cutler got hit in the head with a guitar, I got my arm stomped on when one of the guys stepped on a speaker that tipped over, Mark almost got a cymbal to the face. It was also one of the loudest shows I'd been to in awhile...my ears are still kind of ringing. But, all in all, I'm so glad I got to see them, and had a great time.
While leaving the show, I saw someone who looked exactly like Ian Libby, and assuming it was him, started talking to him about how Max was supposed to come and such. He acted like he knew who I was and responded like he knew what I was talking about. It wasn't til I talked to Max later that I found out that it definitely was not Ian. Oops.
The way home wasn't so good. It started snowing while we were in the show, and it was coming down so hard that it took us nearly five hours to get home; we didn't get back til 5:15 AM, and Mark and I had to get up at 6 so he could bring me home and go to work. It was rough, but still worth it.
Pulled over on the interstate so that Cutler could pee in the woods.
And his return.
Somebody was drinking tea.
Midnight Masses.
Funeral Party.
Trail of Dead...and when I finally decided it'd be okay to turn my flash on.
Sweat dripping down the guitar.
The cymbal that almost got Mark.
The aftermath.
David moved in this weekend.
I'm moving out in less than a month.
And, number four, the mole skull:
While leaving the show, I saw someone who looked exactly like Ian Libby, and assuming it was him, started talking to him about how Max was supposed to come and such. He acted like he knew who I was and responded like he knew what I was talking about. It wasn't til I talked to Max later that I found out that it definitely was not Ian. Oops.
The way home wasn't so good. It started snowing while we were in the show, and it was coming down so hard that it took us nearly five hours to get home; we didn't get back til 5:15 AM, and Mark and I had to get up at 6 so he could bring me home and go to work. It was rough, but still worth it.
Pulled over on the interstate so that Cutler could pee in the woods.
And his return.
Somebody was drinking tea.
Midnight Masses.
Funeral Party.
Trail of Dead...and when I finally decided it'd be okay to turn my flash on.
Sweat dripping down the guitar.
The cymbal that almost got Mark.
The aftermath.
David moved in this weekend.
I'm moving out in less than a month.
And, number four, the mole skull: