Colonist
10 September 1998
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Colonist
10 September 1998
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I just found out that Akira Kurosawa died Sunday. Some of the best films I've ever seen. A sad day.
And now, on with the meaningless trivia:
This is such a mark of total social failure. Yet again, I am stuck with an unused, unwanted, extra ticket to a concert that I would have sworn would be at least mildly popular among the people I know. I don't think it's Their fault. I think I just give off such strong creep vibes that it's like insect repellent. "Want some candy? Would you like to go to dinner with me and some of my friends? Wanna see a concert?" Famous last words before you disappear for five months and show up in the airport with a new do, a new 'tude, and a new profession. "Wanna buy a magazine?"
Damn. Well, I'll just have to go and have a fabulous time. That'll show you! Ha!
Well! It was such an incredible show. I don't understand people who turn up their noses at They Might Be Giants. Like their recorded material or not, in concert they are astounding. They had the horns back for this tour, for one thing. I defy you to listen to them play "S-E-X-X-Y" and not find yourself dancing. Not to mention, oh, "The Guitar" or "Famous Polka" or "Your Racist Friend" or half a dozen other tunes.
So it was damn well worth it. Despite! The fact! That Linnell was not only at the show, but no more than five feet away from me during the entire thing. No, not John Linnell. This is a case of a self-supplied alias. "Linnell" is this smart, gorgeous woman that I know, and who went with me to see TMBG play a free New Year's Eve show at the Hard Rock Cafe of all places a few years ago. But the unfortunately more salient fact is that the first time I met her, she had no clothes on. It was at a strip club, it was a difficult period for me for a lot of reasons, there's no real sense in getting into the details. It suffices to say that when I noticed she was there tonight, she noticed me as well, and pointed me out to her quite obvious boyfriend who stared at me in the wonder of seeing a john in the flesh. As opposed to the Johns on stage.
It is a testimony to the greatness of the show that I didn't spend more than 5 or 10 minutes squirming in shame. So Nyaaah to Linnell, no matter that I loved you once. And Nyaaah to the darling couple Anna and Mitch too, who naturally were hanging out at the bar when we got there after the show. Go ahead, smirk if you will. (They did.) I guess I make an amusing object to them these days. They'll get old and ugly like me in time. Not that I'll be there to laugh, given the probable mortality of this smoking and all, but I can imagine. You may say I'm a dreamer, and in fact I may be the only one, but I don't really care if you join me or not, and the world can stay in as many pieces as it likes. I only ask -
Hey! Who's that playing? The guitar!
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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