monday night was gogol bordello at emo’s.
mindblowingly amazing. again.
i have written about them before.
but it just doesn’t seem like enough. my words can’t do the job. the experience (cause it’s more than just music, you have to be there) is unlike anything else.
- when you the people on stage are dressed as outrageously as the people in the crowd a couple of weeks before halloween–
- when the mustache on display is so imprssive it spawns the generation of countless others–
- (seriously: check around the hipster austin scene in a month and see if you don’t see more handlebars. i know b is ready for me to start one again)–when your voice starts to go because you’re screaming too much–
- when you’re getting crushed by people trying to get closer, and you don’t mind because you want to be closer too–
- when your arms start to hurt because you’re clapping too much–
- when you feel like nothing could pull you away, because you are being so strongly pulled in–
- when your feet start to hurt because you just can’t seem to stop pogoing up and down to the beat–
then you know you’re at a gogol bordello show.
my body isn’t happy with me. season changing, allergies, etc. not at optimal health, etc.
but the rest of me is still basking in the afterglow.
it’s hard not to think you’re going to have a good day when the forecast starts out with “plenty of sun.”
it’s just too optimistic to doubt.
zombies were all over congress avenue today. i barely escaped with my life. and these pics.
some of which are scary.
the object of a new obssession.
which way is she turning? some people see clockwise, some counter. one way means you’re logical, the other means you’re an artist/dreamer. whatever. click on the image if you want more info.
the weird thing to me is that sometimes she’s going one way, sometimes the other. and sometimes i can defocus my eyes and make her change directions, and sometimes i can’t.
no idea what this means. but it’s weird and interesting and well worth staring at for hours on end.
“do you want an upper or a lower?” she asked.
“which do most people want?” it was the only thing i could think of, since i couldn’t imagine why it would matter which locker i rented in the school gym.
“upper,” said the perky blond girl behind the table, “so they don’t have to lean down to put their stuff in.
“fine. i literally can’t think of a reason to care, so i’ll go with upper as well.”
i realized later there WERE things to care about when it came to which locker. see, cause the hooks on the locker are at the very top. about eight feet in the air. i have to stand on the bench to reach. and i’m tall, you know.
whatever. no big deal. more important is the actual physical location of the locker i was assigned. it’s in the back, in the smallest corner, right beside the showers and the scale. whatever, right? who cares right? yeah. that’s what i thought.
for the most part, there’s no problem. there aren’t a lot of lockers there in such a small space, so i don’t really have to share with anyone.
but yesterday, fresh out of the shower, (which is to say, nakedly unlocking my locker to get clothes out), another guy came out of the shower, dressed in a towel. he stopped when he saw me, looking back from me to the scale. i knew that he wanted to weigh himself–naked–on the scale right there, inches from my own naked self.
i saw (and felt) his dilemma, and tried to act like i didn’t know he was there.
two naked dudes in a four foot space simultaneously? i’m not gay, and i’m not afraid of gays or being gay, but that doesn’t mean i want to be really reallyclose to another naked dude. i can take it, but it’s not my ideal sitch, you know?
he wandered off, i got some clothers on, and i imagine he came back when i left.
but i know what to ask about next time i rent a locker.
