Friday and Saturday were Reverence 2006. 10 groups, 2 nights, 2 clubs, 25 bucks. I would've been there with bells on if I had any dork credits left to spend.

I put on my usual black and boots and headed to the High Noon, over on East Washington. I felt odd being caught out in daylight with my club fatigues. Then again I used to dress in black all the time, so I quickly got over myself and walked the good mile.

I ambled up as Goth King began unloading stuff from his car, shirtless. He vaguely looked over in my direction; I did likewise. This was across a street so it's cool. There was a 30's-ish dude in a mesh shirt I recognized, but I didn't know him. Everyone else was from out of down at that point.

The promoter had said 8 on their website. The promoter was a lying suma'bitch. I waited for a good 40 minutes. This is not easy when you know no one at a concert venue. Did I walk around the block and admire MG&E industrial sites? Yes. Did I go to the local BP and get fluids, much to the slight amusement of the dude at register? Yes. Did I stand near the end of the special winding ramp and stay perched on my arms for fuck knows how long? Yes. I also saw Debby of all people there. I'm a council member on Sigma Xi. She's the secretary. Rates a 1.5 out of 10 on the amusement scale.

We were like cattle when the door dude let us in. After that, well, fuck:

*I saw Birdie/Post Doc and her husband Ben. Rather they saw me first. We talked, we schmoozed, she introduced me to Gary (?) and Amanda. Gary seemed to have the same sortsa problems I habitually have with women. And I further confirmed most of the bitches in this joint were either taken or psycho. Birdie pressed that I had a thing for Lee and that, apparently, Lee was only vaguely kinda hanging out with the guy she was with. Now beyond my semi-strict policy of NEVER dating someone who's attached (with Erin being an exception because I'm a goddamn fool for Irish girls), there's another bit.

Remember that chick I mentioned, who looks like a dude? Yeah. That's Butterfly Bob/Lee. Seems like a nice person, wouldn't say hi to me to save her life she's so shy or such a bitch, but that's Lee.

Birdie also mentioned that Katja is single now. While we've talked in the past, however, she's a popular DJ and that just doesn't mince well with me.

Anyway, Amanda seemed nice. Didn't make eye contact when I introduced myself but eh. She explained that there was only one place in Mad-town to get Goth wear. Apparently that wasn't the most reputable outlet. Apparently I'll just have to buy my fetish gas masks and leather pants online.

So enough fucking socializing.

I can't remember the specific bands to save my life, so far as to say that I enjoyed being one of the leaders to get the rest of the fuckers dancing. I swear these goth/punk/whatever people just want to stand around and bob their heads.

Fuck that. Give me 130 bpm and an industrial bass drum with semi-incoherent vocals and I'll show you a goddamn animal. I love dancing. What's better, it's easier when you have a single direction to focus said dancing in.

So I'd dance for the whole group's spiel, stop, socialize with Birdie or Ben (where Ben and I yakked photography, which seemed to endear me to him slightly), and then promptly go back to dancing. I didn't make it all the way through, though. Somewhere around the 2nd to last act I just didn't have the spirit anymore. This typically happens when I get sober or my feet get really sore.

Oh. Now I remember.

We had to wait 40 minutes for this band to set up. It was inexcusable. Never have I seen people so apathetic about getting shit set up. It was like they could make us wait. And while the lead singer was this below 5 foot Indo-Asian alleged sex goddess creature, I would have none of it. She wasn't all that good, either.

So I washed my hands of the affair and left early, like I've always done.

Night #2 was different. This time there was no socializing. Well unless you count me briefly talking to the blond waitress at the Inferno. It wasn't even night yet, actually, but 6:30pm. I had to comment on it at least once to someone. Thankfully other people had already trickled in.

They started up sets at around 7:15. And wow did I feel sorry for the first band. It was light out, streaming through windows we didn't even know existed. They were synthpop with little industrial edge. And try as the lead singer might (read: not much), the crowd mostly stood there. After the first few songs he asked in as englishly non-english a swank as he could: "Thank you thank you, and people, one requesTAH - can we get some movement of some kind? Hm? I'd like to see some dancing out there." Some chick in the audience chided us. Meh. I eventually started bobbing my head vigorously with some shuffling, but come on: it was fucking light out!

That's like jacking off to beastiality porn at work if you like that sorta thing: right content, WRONG time. Same here.

And so it went for another few groups. There was a cybergoth who ended up being vigorous who'd occasionally step on my boots. There was also this tie and dress shirt but leather pants mocha chap who could GET THE FUCK DOWN. They were up in front and I was behind, so they mostly just interacted with each other. Some chick in back of me occasionally pushed. I resisted the urge to 'accidentally' smack her.

The best group of the evening and what did me in was C/A/T. At first the set-up was nothing to write home about: a desk, two apple laptops. Nothing else. Then the DJ's got on the stage. The woman was phenomenally beautiful with that red eyeshadow, red lipstick but eyeliner thing going on. The gent was just a gent. And then they started their engines. And the pure, hardcore, thumping, absolutely fucking best industrial I have heard in a damn long while came.

And we the front section went nuts.

I swear I felt like I was going to die 35 minutes in. It just went, relentless, like marathon fucking. One hardcore song after another. No break sections, no slow movements, none of that. Kat was dancing in back to the side for awhile, and then Goth Queen. Goth Queen can get down pretty well; I was impressed. I only had so much space to work with, myself. But as people left or did whatever I got a surprisingly uncontested amount. I let in a chick on my left to have some more, though, 'cause she was out of town and she was cute.

And when that set ended, I was done. Done. Exhausted beyond fuck. Water did nothing. The red bull I drank did nothing. I had tapped myself out and I knew it. I ended up sitting in the far back of the far end bars as some Gwar wannabe vague industrial types got on. I mean the guy wore a fucking mask and went death metal on the mic. Fuck that.

So knowing I was licked and that I couldn't take any more stimulation--let alone this band and whatever came after--I left.

No one from the grad school showed, but I fully expected it. We're poor. 25 bucks for two nights is a bit much.

This one is straight-forward. I did barely anything at the lab. All I could do for all my projects, but that itself was barely anything. Still haven't gotten another draft from my advisor, but he's resubmitting a grant--and the results of the study so far are not very good/plentiful.

I mean it really was like a vacation week. Not that it hasn't been that way basically since the summer began, but this past week was smooth.

Highlights:

*Saw Dead Man's Chest by myself one night. I feel as if I didn't catch all the nuanced plot bits, but the main thread was easy enough to follow. What wasn't easy was dealing with a full bladder for an hour. I had to get soda for my throat on account of the bronchitis, but I hadn't expected to need to go so bad. Still, I survived.

Barely.

*Saw Clerks 2 with Brian. We laughed our asses off like little school girls. Oh my Christ how I love Kevin Smith and his overelaborate haiku-like dialogue. It was all I hoped it'd be. And it was cool hanging out with Brian again. It confirmed for me that I'd made a good choice for a roommate. True, not all good friends make good roommates, but we're pretty slovenly so it should be a'ight. And of course at one point he had to make a joke about me being Mr. moneybags now because of my fellowship. Damn but I wish, man.

*There was a TORRENTIAL downpour on thursday or friday. I was over having a salami and prosciutto sandwich at Indie Coffee. The clouds had thickened like miso soup. Everywhere was the silence before the break, the calm before the thunder claps. And sure enough, it began to rain. Then pour. Then POUR. And after that God just went full balls and went to town on the city. The street outside was flooding. Flooding. The water was lapping at the entrance of a bar with 4 mini-steps required to get up to the door. Cars were quickly nearly submerged in spots.

And it was into this business that I vaguely considered thrusting myself. I had nothing to do AT work, and no real reason to be AT work, but I still thought I should head back. So I read the Onion all the way through, peered outside awhile, then decided to haul balls back to the lab.

This consisted of:

*Taking off my shoes.

*Sprinting down the street as my shirt became completely soaked.

*Going THIGH HIGH in water as I weaved past some jackass who didn't want to give me the right of way. (where I'd rolled up my jeans to my knees).

*Struggling through said THIGH HIGH water to not get swept away as I splashed toward the shore line.

I was drenched and soaked. People were vastly amused. I was too. I changed into medical scrubs for the rest of the day...only to realize later that, duh, we had a dryer I could use. So I actually ended up being able to go home in my street clothes.

So yeah, other than that, completely forgettable week.

...

Fuck it, this is long enough. Preview: I got really drunk on friday and flirted with a chick; I got a little drunk on saturday and danced, watched performance art burlesque, and danced more at the Inferno; I didn't get drunk at all today. Yay. Preview. And there are new photographs I'll post about later. Tune in next time!

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