Like every high school senior shivering and dirty at the end of spring break I find myself waiting for it all to be over, to the point where I consider drugging myself to no end as a way to sleep through the next what month and a half, until it's all over, finally coming down at graduation, the colors and monsters fading into the curtains and gowns at Constitution Hall, thinking to myself "Damn! I could have seen Primus here". Primus played there March 13, same day as Tom's party & its respective incident, also the same day as Del Cielo/Stop It!/Tradition Dies Here/Bear & the Butterfly at Cafe Mawonaj (pleasently known as Klaus' first harDCore show), but I didn't see Primus despite the promise of a complete rendition of the entrie Sailing the seas of cheese album, rather I went to Mawonaj, saw BxB, then went to Tom's where I stayed for twenty minutes then went home and danced to the Cramps, settling down to make myself a salad. But back to the first rant, I wish I could go on Fear and Loathing-esque drug induced swirl of hallucenations and unintended experiences, driving a large convertible at high speeds with a trunk full of illegal mind bending substances. Like that would make the end of the year. I'm done with school; done with the work and the people, I want to make it routine to skip school and go to Pho '75, just want to sit there all day drinking Vietnamese iced cofee after Vietnamese iced coffee and so on. I'm not really done, I don't even know what school I'm going to next year, I'm not even really liking my options that much, but that's what I get for never really working that hard in my life and minimalizing my college apps and blah blah blah. It's been a couple weeks since I've worked at the store, been a long time since I went to the gym. I've gone to a handful of shows and been part of youthful teen revelry recently, so that's good. Like those things, the shit outside of school and home, they're the corn starch that thickens the miserable stew of life, makes its less of watered down mess. My stew experience is pretty limited, my most recent stew memory I'm pretty sure was some Friday night at the Baker house, where I was offered a bowl of stew featuring some exquisite chunk of beef that jews really enjoy or something, but I remember thinking about the viscosity of the liquid-ish part, how it would be shittier if it was too thin and shitty if it was too thick, I also thought about how I didn't want to eat that potato, somehow I managed to get out of eating that potato and I remeber eating homemade chocolate chip cookie which is always a good thing, something I look forward to when I'm in that Baker household. Yeah, but I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I think I'm going read some Maximum Rock'n'Roll article tonight and sleep a lot, and then tommorow I'm going to ask my mom for my allowance then I'm going to go town to the old pharmacy and buy some discounted easter candy, listen to some sludgecore, watch the Daily Show repeat at 11:00 in the monin', if its warm, I'll wear my Saul Cohen-inspired "Lebowski" shorts, nothing real unnerving. What are the good pills to pop?
Chinatown man. That's where its at.
So last year, I got "asked" to the prom to fill in for a friend after she and her boyfriend broke up like a week before the prom, so I was rockin' and filled in, went out for a fine dinner at Lebanese Taverna with four or five boheme girls who were too cool for the prom (Dahlgren had told me two of them were lesbians, and I never really did figure out which ones were lesbians, but it was a JRussell conversation starter, it got me an expresso at work over the summer, JRussell + 1!) and then partied with em in the May humidity at Eva's house, dangerously close to my house, where the closeness of summer left all the windows at my family's house open to hear all the kids openning and closing doors, speeding off to steak'n'egg or the the playground at lafeyette, but it was all cool I guess, cept for that Police scare. The night of the prom last year, May 30th, was also the night of Majority Rule's CD release show for their new album Emergency Numbers; Mannequin and the Chase opened. As Majority Rule does with every album release, admission to the show included a copy of the new album which didn't actually "drop" for another month and a half. I was really high on the scene that May, went to a bunch of crucial shows amidst a flurry of AP tests and intertwined play practices, so I really wanted to go the Majority Rule show, because well that was on my mind, the week before was the last pg.99 show, a real catharthic moment that solidified my faith in DC/VA/MD punk hardcore scene, the DIY scene in general, the crew I went to shows with, the whole routine of riding home on the subway alone covered in sweat grasping a record, it was almost all I thought about, I also thought about ethnic food and domestic poon. So I almost gave up the "prom date" last year for the Maj. Rule show, but didn't,m because I was so fucking flattered to get asked out, and a lot of people I talked said I would ya'know "gesssomedome", even Philosopher/ambigious homosexual religion alluded to me getting some poon, but I didn't, we passed out on seperate floors, I think she may have bedded some guy named Josh, but maybe not, either way he bought me mozzarella sticks. My May livejournal entries document the whole situation with on going sideline commentary from many of the Cocaine In Motion community. So I didn't actually go the prom last year, but I dressed up and went out to dinner and fled a house for fear of the police just like every other cliched high school prom party. But I was a junior, a shaggy-haired, slit-eyed, furry bellied, non-flame-tested, purple shirt wearing junior who doesn't look good in glasses or a baseball hats. Now I'm a rockFUCKgrandiosATAN Senior, class of '04 (enthusiasm?) who's still shaggy haired and slit eyed, furry bellied but now I'm FLAME TESTED, like a souvenir Frederick Keys baseball bat that's worth nothing. This year, I was going to be so "punk" I was going to sit in a bean bag chair naked listening to lungfish and exosus and document how awesome I am by drawing my body with a sharpee, once the marker fumes got to me, my suicide girl would play with me until sun rise over 32nd st. But that'll never happen (until college, I lie to myself to encourage breathing), so fuck it, maybe I'll go to the prom this year, yeah it's senior prom blah blah blah, I'll make a dress out of curtains, never go hungry again, strike oil and move to Los Angeles, do heroin, fuck a stripper, live on her wealth, die on the beach sedated. Yeah, I tell myself, I'll go, I'll rock the fuck out, I'll be a real Johnny Squid, no I'll be a real Iggy Pop covered in blood, topless with my chest cut up and broken glasses and bottles, blood clotting on my woft of respectable chest hair, fuck it, I'm gonna rock so hard, I'll be banned from Washington DC, home of not dancing. It'll be an EX-PROSE-ION!!, if you prose meant rocking the fuck out. Oh man, I can't wait to rock out, get primed on some Stones, Shakedowns, Stooges, Nation, Kinks, Bad Brains, Sheer Terror, Black Flag, Johnny Cash, just roll out the rep carpet of rocking out. Tom Vladek asks me for "vintage t-shirt", I have him a rocking real vintage 1979 [sic] OLLING STONES Tour shirt; motherfucker never wears it, but this would be an occasion whip out that shirt, muscles or lack thereof, belly over awesome belt buckle, shoes covered in mud, hands crusted in candy, rocking the fuck out.
Either all that or just look complacent "I'm too smart for this shit" - "I'm too white for this shit" - "I wish they had a real go-go band" - "I'll twiddle my thumbs til they play some old school soul, then ask a girl to dance, make it look like its ironic, like it will be kitschy, but seriously, all jokes aside, I hope that dance gets me in the zone" - "Have I had too many corn dogs?" - "I am so glad I didn't wear pleated pants, look at the dumbass in his pleated pants, all puffed in the ball room" - "There's no such thing as too many corn dogs, especially when yr as loneley as me" - "Man, these dockers from junior high are like a country motel . . . no ball room" - "Can I go to ESPN Zone yet?".
But this year, this Senior Prom year, a conflict arises, much like last year, I have a "date" but it doesn't really seem like the holdhandsingoldenreflectiveelevatorinhotelthrowherontobedfuckupexpensivepromdresslosevirginityrealfastasifitnevermatteredtobeginpretenedtoenjoychampagne, so there's not really the enthusiasm that some lucky suburban douchebag with that douchebag bleeched hair Eminem looks forward to, motherfuckers and they're baggy pants. So to put it simply, this year's prom looks to a be a lot of fun, not really the poon kind of fun, but like I always put in parantheses (story of my life). So the conflict yes the conflict. This year's Wilson Senior Prom, is May 28th at some nice hotel downtown, if I was to change trains at Gallery Place that night and go to U. St./Cardozo, I could have the pleasure of seeing Philosopher king/party enthusiast ANDREW WK with spazzy grindcore innovators THE LOCUST at the Pollstar awarding winning 9:30 club. So I'm going to cut to the chase: go to senior prom and rock out or go to ANDREW WK/Locust show and rock out. I need yr opinions because I don't think, well, logically. Sway my future. The only advice I've gotten was from Saul Cohen who told me "prom is prime poon season" as well as i mean, youj should go to prom . . but still that's a cool show". I need you guys' advice. Blah balh, fuck.
