Location: (1)The Mutiny (2) The Freeform Shuffle at Spot 6
Bands: (1) Meah! and Michael Michael Motorcycle
DJs: (2) Sir Vixx, Crusty, Arvo Fuckhead
Things I missed to be there: Opposites Attack, I am the Liquor, Rotten Milk, Total Abuse, Dirty Sheets, and Carrezza at the Co-Prosperity Sphere; the other bands at the Mutiny like The Sass Dragons and the God Damn Doo Wop Band; the other DJs at the Freeform Shuffle like DJ Demchuk and LA Jesus
Reasons I went: Too hot to write or work out at home, had to go somewhere, Bridgeport still too far
Global warming is actually a misnomer. While one of the very real consequences of the use of Greenhouse Gases is the deterioration of the ozone, our planet's natural shield of defense against the bad parts of the sun's rays, it does not necessarily mean the world is going to get warmer. Some gases, the kind that form smoke and smog and other grey things can work as a buffer between us and the ultraviolets, while others may reflect them, and still others may magnify them. The one thing we do know about the Greenhouse Effect is that without a natural defense against the sun, everything goes batshit. Light, tides, temperature, menstruation, circadian rhythm.... everything goes crazy. Eventually the pendulum will swing, and before it settles we'll see chilled summers and superheated winters. It'll be New Zealand all the time and I can't wait.
The weather almost kept me in today, after a day of work and an overlong meeting, but I was saved by my own obstinance and a lonely friend with a car.
The sun was nowhere to be seen and it was still too goddamn close for it to be worth it. Wednesday Night was an acceptable loss so all reasonable people stayed inside.
The cops slow down to yell at us for loitering, but think better of it. The car has A/C. Arvo has drunk himself back in time, yelling belligerent nonsense at strangers on the street like a 14-year old with a chip on his shoulder against yuppies.
Inside Spot 6, a naked Sir Vixx hangs from the water pipe and humps his set partner to the sounds of their own spastic techno. His dreads thrash around like a tortured octopus in a Japanese fetish movie. With his hairy muscles heaving, he looks kind of like a gorilla, a gorilla wearing an octopus sombrero, or perhaps one of the nightmares from Jacob's Ladder has taken up breakcore.
A gothic furry in cat ears and pentacle tries to catch an umbrella being waved above his head from the couch. I see my friend across the street in his wheelchair, and everyone thinks it's perfectly dickish of me to not cross the street my own self until he starts trying to bargain for sex. He is not one to be pitied, at least not for any of the reasons anyone would want to.I move his leg for him, as one of the foot plates has been bent out of place, and he asks me if I have any blow. We ditch each other for home and the next adventure. The computer for me. Neo for him.
Margaret runs up with a sweaty, drunken hug, "I'm playing the cymbal!"
At the Mutiny, MEAH! plays a dual set with Michael Michael Motorcycle. A blue bin in the center holds various pots, pans, cymbals, drumsticks, and coffee cans for interested parties to band upon, although most of the people remaining have put them down to jump up and down with what is left of their half pitchers.
I can't imagine the Mutiny having an awesome air conditioning system, but for the few minutes we got to see the last set of the night, we were as comfortable as Australians in July, getting ready for winter.
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