Aortas, etc.
Did you all find something old to love about someone new, or something new to love about someone old? I might have, but my judgement may have been impaired at the time.
February 14, 2005 -- St. Marks Church, Manhattan
So Kevin and Ariel and I were standing in front of the Bowery Poetry Club wondering why no one there had heard of us. James Hoff was refusing to answer his phone, apparently because he did not have it on his person. I eventually got in touch with one Laura Coxson, who claimed to have heard that we were playing a show. I informed her that we indeed were, and went on to ask if she knew where our show actually was. She mumbled something about a St. Marks Poetry Project, and then I recalled something about a church and James occasionally putting on events there. So off we went, in the rain, and me with holes in my boots. We arrived in time for the end of a reading, I cannot recall who was reading what, etc. Rebecca Moore then played, and I continued drinking. Then, at long last, we took the stage. People had already put their coats on, and were preparing to leave. They all lingered by the door for the duration of our performance, which was probably more surprising to them than to us, even. So, we put on a show for them. I rolled around extensively. Kevin played someone else's drums extensively. We had such a good time the other night with him singing a song, we decided he should do it again. I decided that I should take my shirt off to play the drums. Kevin sat down at the piano and hammered away at that whilst whispering the vocals into a microphone. People would occasionally try to sing along. They were generally disappointed, as I have been known to change (some would say fuck up) the cadence of the songs. What can you do? I demanded and received some punch mid-set, somewhat gracefully. People looked a little annoyed when I talked about ugly girls being preferable, on occasion, for certain reasons that you might imagine, to pretty ones. I would like to think that everyone had a good laugh, especially when I chastised them for the slightest chuckle. I just wanted to make sure they knew we are most certainly, probably, in all likelihood, not comedians in any way, shape, or form. We're not, really. We might be funny, but we're not telling jokes. Is Kevin the straight man, or am I? These things are hard to discern after a long night of hard drinking. I will let you be the judge, as I mentioned earlier my judgement seems to be impaired. Keep dry, etc.
February 14, 2005 -- St. Marks Church, Manhattan
So Kevin and Ariel and I were standing in front of the Bowery Poetry Club wondering why no one there had heard of us. James Hoff was refusing to answer his phone, apparently because he did not have it on his person. I eventually got in touch with one Laura Coxson, who claimed to have heard that we were playing a show. I informed her that we indeed were, and went on to ask if she knew where our show actually was. She mumbled something about a St. Marks Poetry Project, and then I recalled something about a church and James occasionally putting on events there. So off we went, in the rain, and me with holes in my boots. We arrived in time for the end of a reading, I cannot recall who was reading what, etc. Rebecca Moore then played, and I continued drinking. Then, at long last, we took the stage. People had already put their coats on, and were preparing to leave. They all lingered by the door for the duration of our performance, which was probably more surprising to them than to us, even. So, we put on a show for them. I rolled around extensively. Kevin played someone else's drums extensively. We had such a good time the other night with him singing a song, we decided he should do it again. I decided that I should take my shirt off to play the drums. Kevin sat down at the piano and hammered away at that whilst whispering the vocals into a microphone. People would occasionally try to sing along. They were generally disappointed, as I have been known to change (some would say fuck up) the cadence of the songs. What can you do? I demanded and received some punch mid-set, somewhat gracefully. People looked a little annoyed when I talked about ugly girls being preferable, on occasion, for certain reasons that you might imagine, to pretty ones. I would like to think that everyone had a good laugh, especially when I chastised them for the slightest chuckle. I just wanted to make sure they knew we are most certainly, probably, in all likelihood, not comedians in any way, shape, or form. We're not, really. We might be funny, but we're not telling jokes. Is Kevin the straight man, or am I? These things are hard to discern after a long night of hard drinking. I will let you be the judge, as I mentioned earlier my judgement seems to be impaired. Keep dry, etc.
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