Wednesday, March 31, 2010

A Place to Bury Strangers

No other title seems suitable.
At least for APTBS' set, my setting resembled such a locality, both tactillicly and auditorily.
Even between songs, at least two players kept the airplane noise of doom goin' strong. Then tormented the audience with tantalizing build-ups followed by hypnotizing explosions of distortion.

And I ate it all up for dinner.

Not only did tonight sound like the funnest halloween I've ever had, but the band looked and even smelled the part as well. The light show consisted of a seemingly-purposefully-off-centered projection of some combination of Yes and Nirvana album art and graph paper. It shined as if turned on by a preoccupied substitute teacher who left the room to make copies, leaving the guitarist/vocalist in the dark only half of the time. Leaving me just enough time to catch a glimpse of his festive boxers: a pair covered with my favorite land creature. So like, who told him I loved bats?

The evil odor I speak of was a result of the two fog machines which I am now a firm believer are completely underrated. I should speak more of the catchy riffs and satisfyingly dance-able beats. Or how my entire body tingled at from start to finish. Or how MJ and I made it to Philly and back with ample time. However, watching the moon shrink back to its normal-sized whiteness and screaming Louder than Bombs louder than, well, bombs has seemed to have lulled me further into a daze and I must get a bit of sleep to fuel the prose portion of my Lit final tomorr- today.

My ears are almost back to normal which means I may have to travel to New York sometime in the nearish future and have my mind blown by "craziness".

I hope to dream of zombie Oliver Ackermann and his string-less guitar walking slowly through lingering fog and somehow catching up to me as I struggle to run in my Docs.

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