Unattended Woman

I enjoy going to shows alone. In fact since I quit drinking, metal shows are basically my singles scene (never went through the first 12 steps, so how am I gonna make it to the 13th?) In the past week I went to two shows. Slough Feg, the San Francisco geek metal gods, and the Snapcase/108/Supertouch reunion benefit show at The Williamsburg Hall of Music.



I went to see Slough Feg the day before Thanksgiving and it wasn't techincally a solo excursion since I ran into a dude friend on the way. Still, I believe I was the only woman who was at the show who was under 30, not a groupie, and/or a girlfriend. I ran into several friends once there, all of them male, and was introduced to a rotund middle-aged Norwegian with long blond hair and a full beard. His name was John and he looked like a heavy metal gnome. John later confided to me that he had once been my MySpace friend but I had deleted him. I vaguely remember approving some odd request and then realizing I didn't know this person and deleting him after I got kicked out of Battletorn (Omid thought it would be a good idea that I approve requests of "fans" since it would be good for the band since, you know, I'm a chick.) Anyway, that totally weirded me out because all that internet business went down two years ago. However, what's the point of all this? Two days later Omid informed me that John went by another name and that name was Metalion.



Metallion was a key figure in the early Norwegian Black Metal scene and helmed Slayer Zine. He is well documented in Lords of Chaos, a book I have read too many times. He was pretty much friends with all of my nerd heroes. Funny, I had no idea who he was. I just thought he was an odd Norwegian who was oddly upset by my internet snubbing of him and who was a little creepy for wanting a hug.

Regardless, Slough Feg was amazing. No one was there. Everybody missed out. Mike Scalzi went shirtless aside from a paisley vest. And they are pretty much the best band out there, even though they are totally old. Blah blah blah. I am sick of tired of trying to share awesome things with people and have them not pay any attention to them. I am going to have to become a selfish bastard who directs all righteousness inward.



Then two nights ago I met up with Zach to go see Supertouch play a secret reunion show with Snapcase and 108. Basically I was transported back to 1997. I remember walking to high school listening to both Snapcase and 108 on my WALKMAN. Pre-Discman people. Weird. When 108 played Deathbed I pretty much freaked out and sang along, somehow I still knew the words. Hare Krishna hardcore, could there have been a better bandwagon? Zach bailed on me as soon as Supertouch was done leaving me a lone warrior for Snapcase. I can't remember getting such hard staredowns at a show. The crowd was amazing, I'll post some video footage soon, YouTube is totally fucking me over tonight. A very pregant chick was dancing her ass off next to me and in front of me was some douchebag wearing a "The scene is not dead...it's just out of shape" tshirt. That night totally made everything all right.

Thematics

I have added another favorite photo theme to my existing fav. Without further adieu, I give you...

DUDES AND MACHETES!!!







I like taking photos of dudes with machetes almost as much as I like taking pictures of dudes standing in front of ponies...

DUDES AND PONIES!!!

Immediately after I posted that last blog...

This is what happened:


The dudes had too much whiskey after their work was done (around 6 am.) A leftover Halloween pumpkin was slaughtered. First it was shanked. Then Glen got the machete. Then Dan got ahold of the machete. Then Dan wouldn't let go of the machete.

Also here are some pictures of the store they were working on. Viva American Apparel. Simply for letting me crash in their motel room and eat Cracker Barrel, IHOP and Outback Steakhouse all in the same weekend.







Here are a couple of group photos to illustrate the level of bro I was dealing with. (Note the pumpkin resting on the van.)





Then in the morning...well actually four pm (which is when we finally woke up) there was this:

American Apparel Sponsors my Vacations

It is 3:55 am in Lansing, Michigan. Correction, East Lansing. My birthday technically ended at midnight, but who's counting? We went to a local brewpub for dinner. It was one of those big brick walled college type places. There was a big game today and everyone was wearing green and silver mardi gras beads. There was a drunken full grown man wearing a red pigtailed wig, like the ones they wear in the Wendys commercials.

Seriously. He was engaged in a very earnest conversation wearing that fucking wig. He kept it on the entire time we were there which was about two hours. After we gorged ourselves on mediocre wings and ribs and pork sausage and calamari (basically any apps they could defrost and toss in a deep fat fryer and then tag a $7 price onto we ordered) an 80s cover band took the stage. There was a chubby faced Jew who looked like the bastard cousin of Zach Braff wearing a white blazer, white headband, anda turquoise tshirt and an awkward blonde in fishnets who warbled through the worst versions of "Like a Virgin" and "Heart of Glass" I have ever heard on vocals backed up by some similarly ridiculously costumed musical theater rejects. The brewpub quickly transformed into the Worst Place Ever. The crowd got crazily into the covers dancing the way only white collegiates wearing Mardi Gras beads can. I'm talking step touch hands in the air herky jerky retardation.

In the bathroom Glen overheard this gem, "Yeah, I dunno if I should fuck her. I mean she does have great hooters but she's dumb as shit."

I have been awake for nearly 24 hours and have been sitting in the East Lansing American Apparel for the past five hours while the dudes paint the walls and do some serious power tooling. Happy birthday to me. And trust me, I don't lie when I say this has been a good one.

Halloween is over

And I am mildly bummed. I don't want to wait another year to debut my costume ideas. I wish there was a Halloween every month. I'd go with friends as the interracial ABBA in November, then as the various incarnations of Axl Rose in December (I'd like to be white bike-shorts Axl and then there could be 2002 VMAs Axl, American flag pants Axl, early Axl, kilt-wearing Axl...basically Night of 1000 Axls as opposed to 1000 Stevies,) then maybe start the new year off as the contemporary Liza Minelli. You catch my drift?



I am actually pretty excited to be Axl Rose next year. After seeing so many half-assed Slashes and one medicore Axl I really think I should give it a go. I'm setting a precedent for cross-dressing.