i sing the bodice electric
i am so down with my new electric toothbrush.
it cleans quite thoroughly.
i must say.
my mouth is thanking me for it, day by day.
a wondrous invention for the people.
and since i am people, it really helps me.
continuation of party search: last you knew, i was getting the scoop as far as where to go find this super secret party in which i had to ask a guy in a wheelchair on the corner of 5th and mission where this event was happening. he tells me to go down a block and ask another guy.
wheelchair guy says that i need a password to talk to the second dude. the password? "froggy."
what the hell? and this password only lasts for 10 more minutes, then a new one emerges. so i had to skedaddle to make it. not really, but i felt like i was on some covert operation.
anyway, i walk up the block to market street and there is the dude wearing the black SF giants hat (i said 49ers before...i was wrong).
so i go up to him and say "froggy" while he's being harassed by some homeless dude and he brightens right up and says "ok, cool. you see those bank of america ATMs over there?" he points to the corner of powell and market, where the trolley car turnaround is...tourist central. but this was late at night.
"yeah, i see them."
ok, you're going to have to head toward them and then make a left onto powell.
then, go to the door next to burger king and there should be a guy standing there.
of course, the dude is standing there (wearing one of those hipster cowboy hats, no less) and simply opens the door for me without saying a word. next to burger king...yeah!
up the stairs i go, to the top, where i'm greeted by a bunch of normal looking people crowded around a small bar (this was after 2 am. mind you) waiting for drinks. house music bumped in the background.
the blonde woman wearing black rimmed glasses gives me a smile and says "we're asking for a $20 donation, but it's open bar till 5."
till 5 am? jeez, would i drink $20 worth? and is this crowd worth it? i quickly scanned the room and almost immediately realized this was not my scene.
and you know it was totally illegal.
the whole thing was quite funny.
so i simply shook my head and said "no thanks" and walked back downstairs.
the woman yells down to me "ok, well have a good night then" in a very condescending tone, as if i were a COMPLETE IDIOT for turning down such an awesome good time.
instead, i headed over to dna lounge on 11th street, where i could get in for free with my fancy schmantzy qool qard (usually used for wednesday nights at 111 minna). so i go there and hook up with brien my roomie and that's when i realize what exactly is up on the stage.
on one side is the he-man guy with long hair in two braids on each side of his head, kind of reminding me of an native american do. he's shirtless, playing the electric guitar sometimes, pumping his fist sometimes, and looking like a complete ass. on the other side, was another dork banging on a tiny drum kit along with the thumping house music.
the more they played the more i realized the horror of it all.
calling themselves "memory man," i come to learn that these twerps are essentially billing themselves as a "live act." yeah, real live.
i go up stairs to see the dj spinning records, tweaking the highs and lows like so many djs do, and giving the occasional nod to his cohorts on the stage below.
my god, i couldn't believe the guitarist...thinking he was some uber rock guitarist playing the most extraordinary licks...when he was reminding me of poison's cc deville or kip winger.
what a dolt.
i seriously couldn't believe how awful it was.
not only did the flailing electric guitar solos not gel with the music, the tracks mr dj was throwing down were ultra-old...i heard two from 94 or earlier...and i knew this because i owned the mix cds they were on.
sort of reminds me of the fools that attempt to bring along their wack ass bongos with them to the latest DJ event. come on hippies, give it up. please fuck off.
so after enduring the horror for a good 10 minutes or so, i quickly decided to move on to the stud, where my friend marc works the door.
good dj...yeah this guy lewis was ripping it up. amazingly good dj actually. i was way impressed.
...crowd...well, hmmm, not bad, though the later i was there, the less straight it was. which is no problem to me. if it were a problem, i wouldn't have been there.
unfortunately, peeps started getting a bit too aggressive on my ass (literally) and then when two fellows began pelting me in the back of the head with ice and some sort of wet paper object, i knew it was my time to retreat.
so i finally rolled on home at around 3:30 or so.
oh yeah...forgot to mention the earlier event i went to...the kid606 with gold chains and other kooky idm folk playing tongue-in-cheek hip-hop or something.
of course it was pretentious, but good pretentious fun nonetheless.
the best aspect of the evening was the sloooowwwww as fuck bar keeps.
the ol' peacock is run by this older black couple, along with what i'm guessing are their offspring and/or relatives working the door and such.
the drinks were extremely cheap, though the selection was hilariously limited (three beers).
and the best part of it was how they all moved at snail speed. the woman, especially.
myself and this gentleman next to me decided to consolidate our order because we had already been standing there a good 10 minutes and it wasn't even busy.
they were very thorough, but so much so...they were wiping off drips from the side of the glass, picking just the right napkin for the drink, as well as stirrer...it was quite an ordeal...
i was thinking that next time i go, i'm ordering two drinks at the same time.
other funny part was that the older man decided the evening was over at 1:15...switching all the lights on while people were still playing on stage in the other room.
you could hear the dudes yelling "turn the lights off!" but instead, the old guy brightened them all up.
the second room looked like a cross between a funeral parlor, bill knapps restuarant, and an old community hall in need of some repair.
gaudy it was.
yes, quite the interesting place, the peacock.
this weekend was just as scintillating, veering wildly in crowd.
but that's another story....
eat pasty wedgecream.
intense saturated love and conditional objects without reward.