I can't believe Dirk and I are only six days away from our second anniversary. I'm so psyched.
Okay, I know I didn't let you guys know that I'd been searching for this, but I finally got it: The Dead Boys "We Have Come For Your Children" LP. It's being sent to me as we speak. It wasn't even particularly expensive (tho hard to find).
This week-end was a blast.
Friday night, despite some misgivings, saw us at the Manassas battlefields. This was the site of some of the bloodiest battles in the Civil War. So, in Dirk's infinite wisdom, he planned an outing with Joe and John: going to the battlefield at night and drinking. Of course, Aaron and I were invited; Aaron was driving, and Dirk doesn't go anywhere without me. It's a law.
I thought this was a semi-bad idea. Essentially, we would be drinking in the middle of a mass graveyard in the middle of the night. Dirk would not be swayed, however, and we found ourselves in a picnic area that was set back from the road. The boys drank (although Aaron limited himself to half a beer), and I watched the road. I didn't have to; I was fully invited to join the drinking, but I'm laying off for a while. I don't like to get drunk too often during a month. There are a lot of alcoholics in my family.
Also, I was on a self-appointed cop watch. Whenever the police are about to close in on a place where I am (and shouldn't be), I get these funny little twinges. Call it a gut feeling, instinct, whatever. I have it, and it works. At about 11:30, I started getting this sick little feeling that we needed to get out of there, very soon. I told Dirk (who is well acquainted with my sick little feelings), and we got out of there. Not three seconds after the van had pulled out of the picnic area and on to the main road, a cop pulled in there. In fact, as we drove back to Manassas proper, we saw that the cops were pulling into all the tourist areas that are closed at night. They were setting traps.
We drove back to Dirk's house and finished our revelry there.
Joe and John are interesting people. They are brothers, but not in the sense that immediately comes to mind. They are not related by blood. They are not step-siblings. They are simply friends who chose to be brothers.
John is a Zen Buddhist who's joining the marines in November. Though the choice is odd for a Buddhist, if you looked at John, you'd understand. He looks like a brawler. His head is shaved, and he has that too-blonde hair that makes it appear as though he has no eyebrows or lashes. Somehow his blue eyes manage to be flat, yet friendly. I don't know how. He's stocky and really powerful. He can throw you around with no effort at all on his part.
He's also got this peculiar voice, that comes between a whisper and a growl. I thought people only had voices like that in books.
Both he and Joe can out drink anyone, and they used to get into a lot of fights when they lived in New Mexico. They both pledged, once moving up here, that they weren't going to fight anymore, unless they were defending themselves. They live by a weird code only they understand. If you ask them a question, no matter how personal, they'll always tell you the truth. I always think of a samurai and his goofy kid brother when I look at them. John takes care of Joe.
We practiced on Saturday. Richard had just gotten out of the hospital recently; he had a heart attack and a spinal cord infection. He showed us the ‘better' rehearsal space, the one the Foo Fighters used. Okay, it was cleaner, and it had an infinitely better drum set, but that was all it had going for it. The P.A. was shit (we used it before, we hated it then, we hate it now), and there was something horribly wrong with the bass head. There was hardly any output, even though it was hooked up to two speakers. This wouldn't be a problem if we already had my bass head, but Dirk's not going to be able to pay it off for at least four more weeks.
Back to the old practice space it is. Even though it was nice to have a bathroom that didn't look like a breeding ground for every form of bacteria on the planet. It was also nice not to have to worry about the roof leaking and making the entire place smell like mildew, but we're a punk band. We can deal.
After practice, we went over to Joe's for his kegger. I think it was celebrating John's birthday, but I'm not sure. They got a keg of something — Coors, I think. It tasted like barely flavored water, which I appreciated. I didn't drink at all to start out with because Dirk, in his infinite wisdom, decided that we needed to go straight from practice to Joe's house, even though my car was still parked in front of Dirk's house. (Aaron drove Dirk and I to practice in his van) Aaron went home at 11:00, and I rode with him to pick up my car.
I didn't get back until 12:30, because I was helping Aaron put away the equipment. Dirk was already drunk, and John was urging him to do another ‘keg stand'. Since I'd missed out on the first one, I was more than pleased to watch. A keg stand consists of placing your hands on the upper rims (usually, there's sort of handlebars there, to carry the keg) of the keg, while two people hold your legs up. Thus, you're upside-down, with your head easily accessible by the beer nozzle. A third person places the nozzle in your mouth and starts pumping beer nonstop. You swallow as fast as you can.
After Dirk, and a lot of arguing with Dirk, I did a keg stand, too. I hadn't quite caught on to the dismount, so I got jabbed in the stomach with the pump on my way down. It was hilarious.
Jason was there, though he didn't bring Paula. Jason and John talked about martial arts for a long time....I have my own thoughts about that. I've always thought Jason was full of shit. Especially when he started showing off his ‘psychic powers.' Spare me. Please. I am very close-minded about that sort of thing, especially when people use their supposed ‘abilities' as parlor tricks. (How do you win friends and influence others? By predicting something that was almost guaranteed to happen anyway, that's how!)
After Jason left and John went up to bed, Joe took Dirk and I to a pond in the woods near his house. I wasn't scared at all, for once, even though it was three in the morning and pitch black. We had one flashlight for three people. Dirk was just coming out of being completely trashed, and I was wearing flip flops. It just rained. Flip flops on wet grass — does that sound like a recipe for success to you? Me either.
However, I valiantly battled my footwear's desire to slide completely off my feet, and Dirk sobered up pretty quickly. We got to the pond, and it was worth staggering around in the dark with my flip flops, holding Dirk up. It was spooky, and there were bullfrogs, and it was in the middle of the woods.
This is the stuff that "Remember when..." stories are made of.
That made the whole night for me. I mean, not including when Dirk was completely trashed and he kept telling Joe and Jason that they were sexy.
On Sunday, we went up to Georgetown really fast to put up some ads at Smash! Records. I'm thinking of buying some thirty-minute tapes and taping a couple songs from the demo we made a while ago. The better songs. Then, I'll leave them in a box at Smash for people to take. It might do wonders for getting our popularity up.
Now, if only I can find some thirty-minute tapes for a good price.
