Last Night (Sat)
Planned to go see the band TV on The Radio, who were opening up for the Faint at Webster Hall as part of the CMJ Music Festival. Through some moronic time-wasting, we manage to miss the opening band altogether, but at least the Faint offer an original performance. I like going to shows of bands I've never heard, only to be pleasantly surprised. But truth be told, unless I'm a massive fan of a band, I find it difficult to stay gripped for an hour plus of indie music, and before long I'm staring around the venue... i notice two things:
1) Indie rock women are, for the most part, not attractive, except for the odd sexy riot grrrrl.
2) Everybody here is about 19, and I feel eternally old.
After the show, I give into my masculine instincts and watch the Yankees pummel the Red Sox in Boston at an old college dive bar of mine, Shades of Green, on 15th off Irving.
Off to a place I'd sworn off three years ago, Lotus. There are exceptions to every ban, and this night a group of Aussie friends have booked a table. That means free flowing liquor and immediate, smug admittance.
After some illegal/inappropriate debauchery, I need to way my options for an optimum evening. I look around at my friends and their friends... the fittest girls are either married to or dating my friends or their larger countrymen. The only single one is cute, up for the party, and early thirties. As she grinds in front of me (in front, not against, I feel obliged to point out), I consider playing catch up and going for it... but decide to head uptown for my booty call (we need to find a better term than that).
1) Indie rock women are, for the most part, not attractive, except for the odd sexy riot grrrrl.
2) Everybody here is about 19, and I feel eternally old.
After the show, I give into my masculine instincts and watch the Yankees pummel the Red Sox in Boston at an old college dive bar of mine, Shades of Green, on 15th off Irving.
Off to a place I'd sworn off three years ago, Lotus. There are exceptions to every ban, and this night a group of Aussie friends have booked a table. That means free flowing liquor and immediate, smug admittance.
After some illegal/inappropriate debauchery, I need to way my options for an optimum evening. I look around at my friends and their friends... the fittest girls are either married to or dating my friends or their larger countrymen. The only single one is cute, up for the party, and early thirties. As she grinds in front of me (in front, not against, I feel obliged to point out), I consider playing catch up and going for it... but decide to head uptown for my booty call (we need to find a better term than that).
posted by Unknown at 7:25 PM
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