Friday morning I wrote a nice long meandering post about Thursday night's New Model Army show at Southpaw out in Park Slope, Brooklyn. I wrote about being four or five guinnesses in before the band hit the stage, feeling as close to being 15 as I had in about 15 years and dancing the whole time. Due to technical difficulties, it seems that post never actually made it onto my blog and is now gone forever.
That show was good enough to inspire me to trek out alone to Hoboken, NJ the next night to see them again. I arrived to find the show sold out. I never actually got to buy a ticket, but I hung out for awhile enjoying the fact that smoking was permitted in the bar and let british boys buy beer for me. By the start of the third song it became clear that they were not going to sell tickets to the seven of us hanging around. I sought out the manager of the club, had a brief chat and found myself escorted in as his guest. I kissed him with sincere gratitude and made my way through the crowd toward an acquaintence. Sometimes being me is fucking awesome. I watched the show from the edge of the pit and loved them again.
Saturday afternoon was spent on personal maintainence. I went to the gym and then went to see Rosa. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this previously, but I am now a total convert to and devotee of the brazilian bikini wax. Several of my friends recommended not just this salon, but this woman in particular and so she chats with me about my friends while she contorts my legs and removes every last pubic hair. It is kind of funny to think that this random woman knows the appearance of my friend's crotches and does she ask them how I am while she is waxing them?