Kitty Power

Getting It Over With: Roundup Part 3

I'm annoyed because I wrote a big bunch of stuff basically finishing off the roundup so I could get on with the coasting out the year and then my comp froze and I lost it. Son of a bitch...

I plan to go to bed and sulk and try again tomorrow. If I'm not still sulking. So close though.

ETA: Aight...I'm ready.

If 2003 was: Tying Up School Loose Ends And Starting Fresh Back Home, 2004 was: Pushing Things Forward. I rang in 2004 in the company of Hani, Ant, and Ant's friends from school, with most of us resentful that one chick was keeping us from being merry elsewhere since she had to see the ball drop if what would happen would be different from any other fucking year. The days/week leading up to it, I decided to be dramatic and not spend the turning over of the calendar with the person who loomed so large that year but we met up later and started this year's mode of just being (mostly) platonic friends. It's been up and down, but it's been real. (BTW, that used to be one of those most mindboggling things because used to say. "It's been real"..compared to "it's been fake?" So silly.) On the guy front, I kept my head together mostly, despite a few spazz episodes. No dramatics, thank God. I'm just kinda floating.

My criteria has become more rigid in some ways, way less so in others. It's funny that I just realized that even though I made a conscious effort to find guys in normal places (compared to ones I ended up in random convos at 419 circa druggie wave time or you know, on the net or whatever), the same result came about in the end. Though, I've been more chaste this year strangely. Well, not really. It's been more of quality vs. quantity. Sometimes I think an actual conventional relationship would be nice for a switch -- and then I remember that I'm not the most conventional person. Something's bound to work out sooner or later, eh? I'm not holding my breath though -- and I mean that a lot breezier than that reads.

This year, I got a real fucking job and tried to fold myself into office life. It's totally a square peg in a round hole situation, but I surprisingly don't hate it or the 9-6/7, though sooner or later I'll be off for something more along the career path I've been planning for me. I've learned I'm a bit social maladjusted because I can't bring myself to muster up the nerve to be over the top social (for me) when it'd be in my best interest to do so, c.f. why I don't particularly get along with most of the co-workers. Live and learn. I've got about 50 more years of working ahead of me (if I'm that unlucky) to figure it all out.

The hardest thing about being a worker bee was giving up the party/night-owl lifestyle that got me through the tail end of '03. I started off the year pretty ambivalent about the places I had been going to though. There are no young people really anywhere that I go. The music isn't your standard radio/video fare. The crowd is pretty insular. The hours go either beyond 4am and/or everything is just getting started when the nightlife tourists are done circa 1:30/2am. The people around have been at it for a long time. I jumped in feet first but at a strange angle. "Kids" get chewed up and spit out all the time trying to roll. They aim for the big splashes -- getting an in via sex, drugs, or money. I'm broke, have been to too many NA meetings in my lifetime, and misanthropic, so I met people just by being there and being an aloof random magnet. I remember the first time I got the feeling that everyone was so strange and had to be on drugs. Well, they are. I've found that most are also emotionally-stunted and fried from years of abuse. You'll find yourself surrounded by hedonistic adolescents in the bodies of people at ages I'd like to think I'd have been known better. It's strange to be 23 doling out advice to 30-somethings and feeling that a prospect might be better in a few years when he hits middle age because maybe he'll act like a "real" adult by then. I found myself opting for shooting the shit and being a homebody over going out to rage until the sunrise. I could feel my interest in being out die as I spent a few too many Fridays in out of sheer exhaustion from lack of sleep all week long. It was easy for me to accept that I needed to find alternatives because really I wasn't missing anything. Plus bar drinks are expensive and hell on a figure. I'm on a bit of a sabbatical. I'm a true night owl, so I won't be gone for long.

The understatement of the year is that the apartment hunt has been my life. I really was addicted to CL listings and NYT real estate page and my newest fave website, Curbed. It was a second job for most of this year. But, we got it! I've got to say that my hatred for Queens only intensified as time went on. I've hate out here where I live now forever and became very disillusioned on the search as we were turned down time and time again in Astoria and LIC. The look on people's faces when PrincessNella and I would show up to look at places! "Wow...I had no idea you were black on the phone! And you're like super black...nappy hair and damn, y'all are dark!" Ant and I also had an episode in Brooklyn where the realtor was perfectly pleased to see a dark face wanting to move into a popular area, but not especially thrilled at the thought that my roommate might be more than that (definitely not) as a Chinese man. It was a mostly demoralizing and frustrating process. Especially those close calls that fell apart inexplicably. On the bright side, I've learned that there really isn't anything that can't be found on Craig's List...I got my job, a writing thing, easy survey cash, and now the apartment among other things.

Overall, 2004 was a lot of personal upheaval. I spent a fair amount of time taking inventory and feeling sad, frustrated, angry, relieved, disappointed, excited, and depressed about many things in my life and the world at large, but I think it has been one of my biggest growth years ever. I had great friends around and great adventures with everything I needed and most I wanted. It was rocky, but I feel good. Ever upwards.

A Last Bit of Luck

Guess who won concert tickets after entering just about every damned Flavorpill NYE listing giveaway? Me! Yay me! And I'm special (or perhaps strange) because I'm the only winner! What...did every one else go for the 169 Bar party or something? Good luck trying to get into that bathroom, people!

I'll be at the Ghostly International New Year's Bash starring on the decks/laptops Todd Osbourn aka Osbourne and James T. Cotton aka Dabrye aka Tadd Mullinix, together also known as Soundmurder (or not...I'm confused. Different sites say different things) at Subtonic. I've got an extra ticket and will have no doubt a contraband bottle (or two) of Andre in the bag. But, I've got no one to go with. Ah well. I'm a random magnet. I know I'll make friends.

The question is: where's the after party at?

Ho Ho Ho

It actually took VH1 Classic to bring me some Christmas cheer this year. I stumbled upon the ultrasurreal catchy totally new wave video for Squeeze "Christmas Day." I need to post that song (ETA: here it is!). It even sounds bizarre.

Sheer laziness kept me in for the Eve this year and I passed the time watching cable when I ran out of net to explore. I watched Who's That Girl, marvelling at Madonna's terrible handling of accents even back then and thinking that Griffin Dunne sure had that uptight yuppie facing misadventures market covered in the '80s, eh? Also, Kicking and Screaming totally not my post-college experience but that's some of the realest sounding dialogue ever.

Sunday night found me stir-crazy and I jumped at the chance to hang with a random at this place I'd always slightly wondered about. I'm always amazed that no matter how many times I think I know better, I get confused about Greenwich St vs. Greenwich Ave. But the West Village can trip anyone up. We discussed The Sea And Cake and how the place was filled with a lot of wood and the menu was totally unintelligible. I proved myself as usual a random magnet when he went to use the phone as the typical drunken 20-something pseudointellectual fucker sitting next to us at the bar turned to me and started blathering about my companion's stated dislike of the choices. I shot him a look and remained noncommittal as he insisted "the food is so good though! If you don't like it, you can come to my house in Killington!" Whatever, Random. His apparent date and I shared some "someone's had a few too much to drink" looks. On his return, the loudmouth turned to him and said "order the steak. Don't you know that people are starving in Iraq?"

I laughed at loud and blurted out, "what the fuck are you even talking about? What does one thing have to do with the other?"
"He should order it and eat it because in Iraq there are people less fortunate and starving who wished they had steak."
"Whatever. That's so stupid what you just said. I mean there are people in Manhattan that don't have enough to eat, so why are you even bringing Iraq into this."
"I know there are people starving in Harlem, but I'm saying I know he'll like it and I'm willing to pay for it if he doesn't."
"Oh...will you invite him up to Vermont also if he doesn't like it?"
"No, you can come to Vermont, but not him."
"Okay...you're ridiculous."

And that was that. I found myself with a free drink appearing next to me from the bartender and eventually he and the date exited. Continuing on the "hey you, only black girl in the place, I just feel the need to talk to you!" train I always find myself on, an off-duty waitress sat next to us and proceeded to ask our advice on a customer handling faux pas she had made a few nights before. And then talking our ears off about it and her boyfriend going to Thailand to backpack (!) and randomness forever. WTF?

We stepped out into the snow, softly falling on the street. The hardened cynic in me noted that travelling the next day was gonna be a bitch and a half if everything iced over. But at that moment, it was just nice. And I trotted off to the train, hands in pocket.

Un Hypothétique

So I know this girl, who I'll call Randice, and her roomie-to-be, named Mant, who have this pretty cool apartment lined up and are all set to start the moving in this weekend. The management company man has put across that for the signing they need first, last, and security which is pretty much standard here. The place is all big and rent-stablized, near the park and in a pretty neat neighborhood. The catch is that Randice's mom works for Housing Court and when she told her about the sweet deal, she replied that not only is the rent too much but it's technically illegal to ask for 3 months upfront because for a stabilized place it should only be 2. So now, Randice and Mant are pissed but nervous because how should we, erm, they proceed? Should they let him know they know he's trying to pull a fast one and let the cards fall where they may? Should they suck it up and sign and be happy they found a place they love? Or follow Randice's mom's advice: sign and pay, but file a complaint with housing people for a rent readjustment and return of the extra fee? Dilemma, dilemma!

ETA: I've been mulling on this all weekend because shit, I'm worried...about Randice's situation. I actually started a CL housing forum topic about it. Look at all those responses!

Resolutions 04 Revisited: Roundup Part 2

So at the start of this year, I was poised to:

01. Write, write, write...
And I sorta did. In theory. I've worked out some damned good ideas, people, you don't even know! Natch as the year went on, none of those played out here. Win some, lose some, etc.

02. ...and get something published
Indeed. I was on a roll for a min there. God bless the web! But, there really aren't as many hours in the day for me as I need to churn stuff out like I should be.

03. Finally put my slacker days behind me
But...but...being a slacker is too much fun though! It's all I've got. Ixnay on this one.

04. Get a spanking new place
Oh yes, oh yes...I just got the green light earlier today and as of the new year, I'm dragging Ant with me to a place in Prospect Heights. Viva Brooklyn! It's nice to be back.

05. Roll through some poor boy's life like a hurricane and make him love every second
Done...and done...and done. The year started off shit slow, but fall was classic.

06. Take the music junkie status to the next level
Hmm...I don't know what I meant by that. But, I was a concert-going, music-devouring fool in '04, so I guess I can check that off the list.

07. See how nice it is to have money in the bank without spending it almost immediately afterwards
Oh, it was glorious! Too bad between furniture and expenses, I'll never have a savings again. Yay?

08. Leave town more often
Done and it was fun. AC, DC, LA...all golden.

09. Follow through on my plans
Eh...I'm getting better.

10. Keep that adventurous spirit while looking before I leap a bit more
I was mad on the ball. Go me!

11. Be more present-focused
That's a blessing and a curse when the present is blah as hell, but I think I did okay.

12. Be the best Candice I can be.
Natch. Always.

I Am Music: Roundup Part 1

This is the year I truly came out swinging as a music fan. Fan as in fanatic.

I've always been someone truly interested in hearing new things. I grew up on Video Music Box and Right On and Word Up and MTV and KISS-FM and Sunday Classics and CBS-101. I've always mixed my R&B and rap with oldies and rock. I dragged my dad to see Steely Dan in 1996 and made a fan out of him. The first almost written fan letter was to Scott Weiland to encourage him to get his shit together (with love) and keep coming back because I wanted to see that Tiny Music tour -- and that I was also glad I didn't buy a ticket because I would've been pissed. At Wes, I gravitated to the station and toiled at my little timeslot at first Thursdays at 4am...when I had to be at work at 9am the next day because I just loved being able to walk into the box and transmit whatever random album that had crossed my path out there into the world. And sometimes people actually listened too. Here back home, at first I felt that I needed to specialize because everyone had their niche of what they listened to and just you know, fuck the rest. But, I'm a random and I like all sorts of things, so I just zig-zagged my own little path, every once in a while checking in with others to see what was up. This year, I have loved:

1. Minimalist Atmospheric Producer Albums I Played Until They Depressed Me And Then Still For A Few More Weeks: RJD2, Since We Last Spoke; Dabrye, Instrmtl; Prefuse 73, Extinguished and One Word Extinguisher; Savath + Savalas, Apropat’t.

2. Compilations Bigged Up Endlessly In Cyberspace Which I Became Curious About and/or Chance Viewings (Thanks VH1 Classic!) and/or Chance Hearings (Thanks Sapph!) That Got Me Feeling Glad That I Came Along Late Rather Than Never: Arthur Russell, The World of Arthur Russell; Coati Mundi, "Me No Pop I;" Morgan Geist, Unclassics; Vanity 6, "Drive Me Wild;" The Pointer Sisters, "Automatic;" Easy Star All-Stars, Dub Side of The Moon.

3. Bands That Made Me Excited Just To Be In Their Audience: Phoenix, Tortured Soul, The Art of Shooting, Benzos, and Man Man (natch). The rule of thumb this year has been, if a show is cheap enough and I've heard of the group (or at least, the night shows promise), I'm there. Phoenix was mutual understanding group with the French kids I met in DC on my study domestic program. I rock the Todd Edwards remix of "If I Ever Feel Better" to this day. I'm not going to get into the show again, but I came for Benzos. I'd seen them back in March on my birthday and downloaded some tracks and fell in like. I ended up on the TSoul mailing list somehow earlier this year and went to the show because it was something fun happening while I was in LA. TOAS came via one of my ridiculous amount of MM shows this year. I'm beginning to feel like the mascot or something. And reading back at the stuff I've written over time is a trip! No wonder why I, um, stood out...besides the obvious. Bottom line is: live music is awesome!

4. Groups That Have Me Along For The Ride If They Want To Party Like Its 1986: Chromeo and Electric Six.

5. Electro-Rock/-Dance a.k.a. ILM and Fluxblog Taught Me Everything: Franz Ferdinand, "Take Me Out;" LCD Soundsystem, "Yeah (Stupid Version);" Erlend Oye, DJ Kicks; Bugz In Da Attic, "Booty (La La);" Spektrum, "Kinda New" (Tiefschwarz Remixes); Metro Area, "Orange Alert (DFA Remix);" Basement Jaxx, "Hot N Cold;" Luciano & Quenum, "Orange Mistake;" Tiga; Smash TV, "Queen Of Man;" Truby Trio, "Universal Love (Tiefschwarz Remix)"

6. Reggaeton: Like Dancehall But In A Foreign Language, So That's Why I Don't Understand It: Don Omar, "Dale Don Dale;" Tito Y Hector, "Gata Celosa;" Pitbull, "Culo;" N.O.R.E. and like everybody, "Oye Mi Canto"

7. It's Got A Damned Good Beat, But You Can Only Really Shuffle To It Like Every Other Fucking Hip-Hop Song In 2004: Mobb Deep, "Got It Twisted;" Snoop & Pharell, "Drop It Like It's Hot" (instumental please because when does Snoop have time to do his gang thing? After football practice and before stoner movie cameos? Puhlease!); Terror Squad, "Lean Back;" Petey Pablo, "Freek-A-Leek;" Usher, "Yeah!;" Twista, "Overnight Celebrity;" Ciara, "Goodies." And the like two exceptions that aren't actually: Nelly, "Flap Your Wings" and LL, "Headsprung"

Anways, my best of what I was listening to all year, not necessarily new -- except to me -- in no particular order:

Albums:
Arthur Russell, The World of Arthur Russell
Erlend Oye, DJ Kicks
RJD2, Since We Last Spoke
Tortured Soul, Introducing Tortured Soul
Phoenix, Alphabetical
Man Man, Man In A Blue Turban With A Face
Easy Star All-Stars, Dub Side of The Moon
Morgan Geist, Unclassics
Chromeo, She's In Control
Prefuse 73, Extinguished

Songs:
Bugz In Da Attic, "Booty (La La)"
Death Cab For Cutie, "Transatlanticism"
Erro, "Don't Change For Me"
Morgan Geist, "Lullaby"
Truby Trio, "Universal Love (Tiefschwarz Remix)"
N.E.R.D, "She Wants To Move"
Twista, "Overnight Celebrity"
Basement Jaxx, "Hot N Cold"
Mobb Deep, "Got It Twisted"
Tito Y Hector, "Gata Celosa"
Franz Ferdinand, "Take Me Out"
Coati Mundi, "Me No Pop I"

I'm Going To Be All Over Their New(est) Shit In 2005 Like Grease On Fried Chicken:
Prefuse
Doves
Daft Punk
The Sea And Cake/Sam Prekop/Archer Prewitt/Tortoise
Benzos
Tortured Soul
Kings of Convenience
Greenskeepers

You Know It's Coming

There are a little under 11 days left in 2004. (Good riddance!) I'm working on my roundups because I did it last year and it was fun. And because I need to put something up for real.

I miss the blog, the near constant writing and formulating posts. I missed being able to write anything and vent and share the randomness that happens. It's always bizarre to me that people besides my longtime friends actually give a shit about what's occurring in my mind -- but I'm sure everyone with a blog feels the same. I know I totally fell off as the year went on -- we've got 1) my job and 2) being screamed on...excuse me, having a situation I wrote about clarified...to blame for that. I shake my head that people want to send me music and ask my opinion on whatever. I'm just a slacker writing about bullshit in between drinking, going out, listening to music, and raging at the world at large. It's fun little hobby though.

I Swear I Didn't Say "What Else Can Happen?"

So here I was about to lament the worst week that just finished. Lost my work passcard! Party on Monday killed my will to leave the house (besides work) until Saturday! All I did was go home and go to sleep but still felt exhausted! [censored]! I had decided to go ultra "bah humbug" and say "fuck Christmas shopping" altogether! Fuck guys...they're ridiculous! Ant and I are waiting on pins and needles for Mr. Would-Be Landlord! And then, I lost my wallet in some way I can't even understand (the only thing to be happy about is that I cut up my credit cards years ago, so I don't have to report those. But, I've got to get a new ID and gym card and insurance cards and SS card and bank card...which is the best part because a new one will be here in 5-7 business days and meanwhile, the telephone lady suggested I can like go to the bank and write a check to myself. With no ID? Yeah right, honey! It's gonna be fun trying to figure out how to get new all of those without the others.)!

Today was looking up sorta. Nice train nap and the door at work was open, so I didn't have to get buzzed in like the jackhole I am. And then my boss announced that my poor co-worker on leave to be with her mom who had cancer called in to say her mom had died. Eek.

Season's greetings? Is this year over yet?

Nuggets

The "I continuously haven't enough sleep to care enough to really write anything and I'm crabby when I'm tired, but I figured I might as well put something up here so you reader people don't write me off altogether" edition.

I couldn't really give a flying about Killa and his Dip Shit-Dip Shit-Dip Shit crew, but this topic over at ILM vaguely intrigued me. And I laughed ironically and snidely at this golden quote: "white people should just listen to indie rock anywayz...its not like dipset or dancehall makes us more interesting." Hee hee. Also on the board, up for Classic or Dud: "Stay With Me Tonight" (Classic!) and "I Can't Go For That (No Can Do)" (Classic!).

My "helping the morning pass quickly and wake up the brain" routine includes gossip columns. (...shut up.) Today's R&M was a crackup from start to finish (Guiliani might be eating crow! Anti-Post snark! Bush kid knocks herself stupid "dancing"!), but I think I vomited a bit thinking of Lohan and Farrell. Ugh...that man radiates disease. Hanging out with Grandmastah H Saturday night (it had been so long that I'd forgotten his psuedonym...that's a long fucking time), he had been watching SNL and my second reaction (1st being "people actually still watch that show?") was "that freaking guy looks like such a skeezeball." To which GH replied perfectly, "and Farmer doesn't?" "I was innocent back then, I didn't know that beforehand!" Besides slightly dirty is fine, looking like if you stand within 15 feet, I'll catch your herpes is extreme. I'm amused by Hollywood so-called bedhopping. Everyone is within six degrees of Paris Hilton's vagina...which you'd think they'd find pretty frightening. I know I do.

Doing the link browse, I stumbled onto this article and it reminded me of something I've always been considering: has anyone ever noticed how fucking bizarro most rap/R&B reviews are? I'll be reading and just pause, cock my head to the side, and say "what the FUCK are you talking about?" These strange turns of phrases -- what is up with that? Is it a word count thing -- sticking any old thing in just to get that 200? Does the editor look at it and say "maybe it's some slang thing...I'll just leave it alone?" Like this little passage:

It's deep. Like an X-rated schizophrenic reading of the Pentagon papers mixed with Katzenjammer capers. El-P's sound tries to come across like some William Burroughs cutup of the B-boy's Bhagavad Gita but turns out more like Nabokov's Lolita holding down a slab of Velveeta so it can get fucked by Chester Cheetah.

Eh. It's all I've got right now.

Such Sweetness

Jamirakid: i hung with Grandmastah H. he's a fool. the new place is sorta interesting but smaller than I expected
Farmer: why is he a fool?
Jamirakid: cause he's Grandmastah H
Farmer: heh
Jamirakid: i mean that in the nicest way
Farmer: ahh yeah
Jamirakid: like i totally call you an asshole as a term of endearment ;)
Farmer: ahh
Farmer: nice

Ring The Alarm

In lieu of anything probably until then, friendly promotion to fill the space:

I Know You're Hot, But Won't You Please Be Cool

I think I've lost the urge to write a real structured post. I'm just going to be like Hani and throw whatever sticks down.

The longest work week ever stretched on and on and on. As quickly as Farmer reappeared, he vanished back to a leisurely life I can only wish for. He's good for shaking me up when I'm feeling hardcore and closed off. He's my boy and he tugs those heartstrings I forgot existed. But, we're getting better in our old age because we're leaving the drama by the wayside. All things pass.

I spent the weekdays all sleep deprived and grouchy, but emerged all butterfly-like Friday night. I sorta combed my hair! I wore something besides a big sweater/sweatshirt! I put on a belt! You know, all those things I don't do for the office. I felt like playing wino but wandered out the house too late to bottle it. The bus/train combo moved in slow motion and I found myself at Essex circa 1am, unable to decide if I already wanted to call it a night.

Instead, I bounced to Starfoods and marveled at what a difference a year makes. Woo...old school jams! "Candy Rain!" "Dope!" That'd be nice if those songs weren't played out and I actually wasn't sick of partying like it was the early/mid-90s. I'm over the nostaglia train. Where the fuck does a girl have to go to hear some modern house/glitch on a Friday night? Throw on some Tiga! Give me a Tiefschwarz remix! That's my new phase. I considered how I wanted a real electro party -- the music fused with a Francopolozza/Monday nights at Sapph/Shelter vibe, in other words, non-rhythm having, non-dancing fuckers crowding the space need not enter -- and then I remembered how this is NYC and people don't really dance, they just pretend to while making sure everyone else is watching. And then I was sad.

Cheap drinks at Sapph and then to my new Friday party...I guess. I was wandering about aimlessly until I wondered to myself, "is that the DJ guy I see over there? Is it? Oh, it is...nice." What I forgot to blog a month ago was Alex giving me a kick in the ass (through threats and potential embarassment) to stop being a punk and just talk to him. It was painless and I was newly excited afterwards. Alas, I stopped caring from a week after that until I saw him again Friday. Out of sight, out of mind. I truly don't care enough to keep the interest level going on no returns. In my mind, I was out of commission. Behind the scenes, minus the Farmer interlude, I'm pretty much got everything I want at this moment in time.

Still, he came over and we yammered. Have you ever just been fascinated by a person? All I could think was: "you're so cute yet so strange. I can't decide if it makes me like you more or want to make fun of you." Then again, I'm an asshole, so I always think that. His friend joined the party and I yammered with him. I tried to convert the friend to both the Zen and Unclassics. They jockeyed for position and I hoped they weren't going to come out with something ridiculous because my reply would've been: "honestly, neither of you have a chance in hell. Currently preoccupied. Thanks for playing though."

And the DJ played my most favorite song: Bugz In The Attic, "Booty (La La)" and I danced felt like maybe there was hope for going out after all. I hung with them from the Bowery to the road until I took my exit at 14th for the F. I had an erm, lively adventure with some teenage guys on the bus who took my tired curses as playing hard to get and wondered what kind of fucking pheremones I was sending out to get the stares/comments in full force. Disinterest. The hot new scent.

More of the same Saturday night. Bizarro male interactions and me wavering between bemused, disbelieving, and "if I ignore it, it'll go away" mode. Somewhere in there, caught Man Man show #5690 and wondered if there was some rule in effect last week that the pre-headliner acts at shows had to be utter shit. This group was like The Go-Go's minus that pesky instrument playing. They suck. Headliner was meh. I had more fun drinking. Woodpecker on tap rules! I can have the pretense of drinking piss like everyone else, but know that I'm not succumbing -- plus drinks that size are way more cost-effective than mixed drinks, even if they lack the kick. I strolled away from the madness early for me and went home blissfully alone.

I saved the fun for the Pseudo on the Sunday reunion. It's just better that way.

Warm Road

Arma virumque cano...I found myself at the Bowery Ballroom in a rush last night.

Ant and I had been doing the potential place surveying, weighing the pros and cons at a homey would-be neighborhood restaurant. One had space that we both envisioned as a bar room yet the other had the potential to keep more money in our pocket by gaining a 3rd and was the more comfy of the two. Alas, we leave it to fate and money.

I ran as fast I could up the steps of the Bowery stop, hearing Benzos as I almost reached the sidewalk. I showed my receipt and ID and got my wristband and ran downstairs and waited to get checked off with my credit card (yet got no ticket. Just because I buy online, I can't get a real ticket?) and hurried through the lounge and ran upstairs and hurried through the crowd and there they were on stage. "We've got two songs left," one said. I unzipped my parka and tried to catch my breath. I people-watched as the music sweeped over. Weezer meets Radiohead? I only think Weezer because the player keeps playing "Across The Sea." And because the singer who does the glitchy stuff is very Riversesque looking to me. Then again, you seen one skinny floppy haired singing like that, you would mix them up too. They rocked and the crowd murmured appreciatively and I wandered back downstairs to the bathroom.

"I just got here. Did Phoenix play yet?" said some girl.
"No," someone responded.
"Oh good...cause I'm only here to see them."
"Yeah, me too!"
"Who just played?"
"Umm...Benzos. They were alright. I'm waiting for Phoenix."
"Do you know them?"
"Well I know that song, you know, the one in Lost In Translation."
"Yeah, that's a great song. Me too."
"Yeah, I came cause I thought it'd be cool."
"Yeah..."

My first instinct was to sneer. My first instinct is always to sneer. I imagine most of the crowd is like these girls in their distressed vintage casual threads from Urban Outfitters or thereabouts. Phoenix is like such a cool band, man. They're like French and stuff. Air with, like, guitars or something. When I think of Phoenix, I think of my semester in Paris...or when I went to visit last year...or like how cool Paris is, they say.

Instead, I tune them out and focus on the girl holding the water bottle above the door of a stall and murmuring to the girl on the other end. "I'm ready for the water now," said the wan figure opening the door a crack. Vomit. At the second act. I really sneer and head off into my stall.

I get a drink and wander the crowd. All look same, but I'm fascinated by the hipster boy hair. It's so fluffy and mop-top like. It shakes when they move! It's so shaggy! My hair even when it's bone straight defying gravity and nature can never be so shaggy like that. It's the only thing I occasionally covet. I don't want to be tall or thin, just have some shaggy hair ever once in a while. Maybe I can buy a wig.

I wander over to the merch table. "Let me know if you need any help," she says. I give her a glance and a faint sneer/smile, "I think I'll be okay." Plenty of shit, but nothing for Benzos. A band with no merch? The fuck? Can a girl get a fucking sticker or something please?

I chat with Alex on the cell. I lounge on the wall. I observe the mating and relating habits of the young urban youth. Shit, these 18+ shows make all the difference. I might be one of like 100 above 21 in this piece. Except for the old guys. There's always some random old guys. Spidey sense says journos. They look even more jaded than I do.

I think of how the Bowery Ballroom is one of my hands down favorite venues. Shows are always amazing there. Too bad the next to headliner had to semi-ruin that. Sheesh...they suck. What is that? Like hootenanny brit-pop? Can it. I'm amazed at how one of the guitarist/singer guys' hair is defying gravity though. He must've pulled at it for a good 10 mins to get that perfect, "just stuck my finger in a socket" look.

Wander some more. Mind drifts. Don't look at me sideways like that, hipster boy. I'm not checking you out. I wonder how a person can have bones that small. Eat a meal. You look like a walking corpse.

Phoenix takes the stage. They play something and I'm blah. It's a French Travis! Eh. Oh okay...I'm into it. Look at little him with his little rock star attitude and band freeze until the crowd goes wild. That was cute. Okay, they rock. I might even tap a foot. Ugh, drunkies...give me some breathing room. Woo...this band is great! Fine, you're all so hot, even if you are all so shaggy and weigh 300 pounds collectively. Oh nice, they played my song. I still like the Todd Edwards mix better. And with that, I'm out. I'm not in the mood for a late night. I'll beat the kids' rush.

ETA: Matthew was there too and he's got a helpful set list -- for Phoenix at least.