Bla Bla 7 February 2001

6:45 PM: I know I've been out a bit too long when the next morning, I find myself thinking things like, "Hey, I didn't throw up last night. Cool."

Death Cab for Cutie were good. A little samey sounding, but good bass lines. (Damn I hate it when I have existential spelling crises - that just sent me on a 20 minute search for examples of whether it's "bass guitar" or "base guitar" because I suddenly couldn't remember, and of course people use both because nobody can spell anymore because they're too busy following their choicepath on their quantum life journeys, fucking tourists.)

I'd sure liked to have had a taser or cattle prod or bullhorn, though, so I could get the attention of the idiots - mostly but not exclusively boys - around me and politely inform them that it's time to

SHUT! THE! FUCK! UP!!!

Jesus Christ on a Ritz cracker.

Then I went to the bar, which might have been a mistake as I had already had a few beers at the show. Nothing awful happened, though. In fact I had a long delightful converlisten with Hannah (you know, where your role is to mostly go "uh huh, uh huh" and "damn!" and "dude that is so true"). Mostly it was about how absolutely stupid people are and when you die you're just gone gone gone, and there really isn't any hope, is there? Which is true, of course, but apparently came as a recent traumatic revelation to her. I was happy to confirm all the rumors. (Though, for the record, I'm not completely pessimistic. I don't know enough to be so. I figure it'll prove out empirically one way or the other eventually.)

Ah, that Hannah, she's a cutie, she is. And though nowhere near my own advanced age, she's still closer than most - most who might be found in places like the bar at midnight, talking about how humanity is going to destroy itself. But she does like those young boys. Shocking, really. And that dancing thing that the young people do, too.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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