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moshin with bug

This has been quite the historic week.

I finally met Bug this monday. She's even more swell in person than online. I suggest you email her and tell her I said this, because I'm in the doghouse.

"Why?" You ask? Well the other day I was being oh-so-humble and giving her hell for not mentioning me on her page and the historic meeting had taken place, to which she told me "if you had actually READ the page you'd see your name on there, dumbass."

(she didn't call me a dumbass, actually. I just added it because I can't go two sentences without swearing.
Crap Boobs Crap.
Hell Fart Damn.)
So I read it and it was all too flattering (since in reality I'm a big jerk), and I thought I'd throw her the props now, before breaking into the actual fireside chat. Buggie was the catalyst of the thing in the first place.

At the age of 29 I went to my first punk show. Bug asked Kim and I if we wanted to go and it was pretty cool, actually. It was also on the, uh.. odd side.

The band we went to see was The Mr T. Experience and they rocked. They played scond out of three (I don't remember the first bands name) the headliner was the Vandals, and I was about the oldest guy in the place. I can definately say while I wasn't the only guy in there with blue hair, I was the only guy in there with blue hair surrounding an ever-growing bald spot.

[ I just woke up - its the next morning now, which is going to disjoint the hell out of this thing... moreso than usual, that is. ]

It was an all ages show and I came away from it with a few thoughts:

I spent most of the night watching the band standing in the back next to a bunch of... well... little kids. I'm not being an old prick and callilng 18 & 19 year-olds little kids, either. These were KIDS. Like 12-14 years old. Not that I have anything against little kiddies, but I forgot my lighter, and they were my only source of fire in the whole place.

SO, anytime I ask one of them for a light, I get this look like "What the hell do YOU want, narc?"

I, on the other hand, am thinking, "Yeah, thanks to you guys I can't buy a goddamn beer."

It was a pretty small place so I could see everything (helped by the fact that a large part of the audience hadn't finished growing yet) and I was only about 10 feet back from the mosh pit, which consisted of about 2 dozen kids jumping around in a circle and shoving each other. Bug kept saying, "What the hell are they doing? That isn't a mosh pit." I didn't know any better so the best answer I could give was, "Maybe mosh pits are different regionally?" (If any of you know better, please let me know).

The thing that kept popping into my head was "What the hell happened to The Pogo?" I just didn't get it. I know that the whole thing came out of the lower middle class blue-collar kids working out aggression and angst of oppression in England in the late 70's, great, but what the hell kind of angst and oppression do these kids form the burbs have to rebel against? I like slapping the hell out of my buddies from time to time as much as the next guy, but this is a little ridiculous.

Then, of course, they get a little wild and the faliling circle winds up slamming into the people next to the pit, who started taking a kind of pleasure in flinging the moshers back into the fray with as much force as possible, and people got wild and a fight or two broke out (with the requisite running of EVERYONE in the crowd to a tight little circle to see it, leaving the band to play for the 8 of us that were actually still watching them).


Around then was the time for us the get the hell out of there and get something to drink in a nice adult place playing some old Sinatra. Hopefully the big-band swing thing will get even more annoyingly bigger, its a lot easier on the ears - and the audience.

Slap out.

11 Oct 98

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