We arrived back in the city for the end of street music day/the beginning of street music night. The official end is supposed to be around 10 pm. but you could tell the crowds and the musicians had no intention of stopping.
Wandering
We wandered the street for a while, finding DJs cranking dance music inside ancient walled gardens, and people spilling into the streets from every conceivable corner. Fire dancers entertaining for change on the roads punctuated the deepening night with bright light and heat.
SMC Again
We find ourselves back at the SMC, I need some whiskey.
The Girl
"Can you order the drinks? I need to talk to this girl." As statements of romantic intent go, this didn't even come close. I just nodded my head yes—since I couldn't really think of anything helpful to say. It is much harder to execute one's duties as a wing-man if you don't speak the language. Linas left me at the bar to get the drinks, I appreciated this confidence in my new-found language skills—however misplaced, and made his way outside.
The Discovery of a Secret Punk Rocker
I meet them outside with the drinks. They are deep in conversation, and i don't understand any of it. I keep my distance, trying to be a good wing-man (I guess, I mean at this point I don't know enough to even be sure that is what role I am playing here). I wander off a distance, to give them some space, and find some people speaking English that i can talk to. They are not that interesting. Boo-hoo for me.
Linas waves me over. "Stand like you're [in our group]". I allow myself to join them, but remain certain that this is a violation of bro-code. They start talking in English for my sake. I am introduced to Gaile. Hi Gaile! I bring up music since it is still going on all around us, asking everyone what their favorite music is—and what bands they are into...blah, blah, blah. The same questions we all ask when we don't know the people and have nothing good to say anyway.
She knows punk..a lot of punk.
We disintegrate into quizzing each other about punk bands. "Do you know Bad Brains?" "Hell yes!". I know a lot of current bands from American that she does not, she knows a lot of bands from everywhere else that I do not. We have common ground on the classics.
11/20
"Where can i see local punk shows" I ask her. She tells us about an underground venue, no advertising, no listing, that has one every weekend and sometimes during the week.
It is called 11/20, because someone, somewhere, said that was the day punk music died. I don't know what year, I don't know who said it, and I don't care.
Lies about the Toasters
"The toasters will be there on Wednesday!" Gaile says "The fucking Toasters!" I exclaim, then break into a horrible rendition of Don't Let The Bastards Grind You Down. I extract a promise from everyone that we will go. They agree.
The next day Linas tells me, the toasters are not coming.
Bullshit Gaile. Bullshit.
Wandering
We wandered the street for a while, finding DJs cranking dance music inside ancient walled gardens, and people spilling into the streets from every conceivable corner. Fire dancers entertaining for change on the roads punctuated the deepening night with bright light and heat.
We find ourselves back at the SMC, I need some whiskey.
The Girl
"Can you order the drinks? I need to talk to this girl." As statements of romantic intent go, this didn't even come close. I just nodded my head yes—since I couldn't really think of anything helpful to say. It is much harder to execute one's duties as a wing-man if you don't speak the language. Linas left me at the bar to get the drinks, I appreciated this confidence in my new-found language skills—however misplaced, and made his way outside.
The Discovery of a Secret Punk Rocker
I meet them outside with the drinks. They are deep in conversation, and i don't understand any of it. I keep my distance, trying to be a good wing-man (I guess, I mean at this point I don't know enough to even be sure that is what role I am playing here). I wander off a distance, to give them some space, and find some people speaking English that i can talk to. They are not that interesting. Boo-hoo for me.
Linas waves me over. "Stand like you're [in our group]". I allow myself to join them, but remain certain that this is a violation of bro-code. They start talking in English for my sake. I am introduced to Gaile. Hi Gaile! I bring up music since it is still going on all around us, asking everyone what their favorite music is—and what bands they are into...blah, blah, blah. The same questions we all ask when we don't know the people and have nothing good to say anyway.
She knows punk..a lot of punk.
We disintegrate into quizzing each other about punk bands. "Do you know Bad Brains?" "Hell yes!". I know a lot of current bands from American that she does not, she knows a lot of bands from everywhere else that I do not. We have common ground on the classics.
11/20
"Where can i see local punk shows" I ask her. She tells us about an underground venue, no advertising, no listing, that has one every weekend and sometimes during the week.
It is called 11/20, because someone, somewhere, said that was the day punk music died. I don't know what year, I don't know who said it, and I don't care.
Lies about the Toasters
"The toasters will be there on Wednesday!" Gaile says "The fucking Toasters!" I exclaim, then break into a horrible rendition of Don't Let The Bastards Grind You Down. I extract a promise from everyone that we will go. They agree.
The next day Linas tells me, the toasters are not coming.
Bullshit Gaile. Bullshit.
