a poetic retelling. an attempt.
Sweet Bright Eyes reference, no? It relates the post, don't worry.
I met Annie and Brian at Starbucks on Shaw & 41. Luke gave us free coffee. I expect free coffee when I visit you as well, Jon. We probably left at like 11. I saw my brother-in-law Aaron on Shaw. We took 99 north to 152 west. We stopped in Los Banos at a Hollywood Video because they're supposed to have nice bathrooms. I guess I'm spoiled by my store, because that one was nasty. We continued west. There was a warning letting us know that there were accidents on Pacheco Pass, so it would be slow. "Fuck." We saw a sign for I-5. "Wanna just take I-5?" We headed north on I-5. Traffic was fine except for some assholes in SUVs riding my ass. I couldn't move over for them; I was next to a truck full of onions, which smelled really good and made me hungry, while it made Annie sick. She's weird and hates onions. I don't know either. I-5 started heading east, so we got on 583 or 580 (I don't remember); it said "SAN FRANCISCO" on the sign. That's the only reason. Once we got into Pleasanton, I knew we were on the wrong path. I knew we were in East Bay. So we stopped at a Togo's, got something to eat, and consulted the map. We sat outside this sushi place and smoked a few cigarettes. A guy that worked that come outside and told us to leave if we weren't eating and that we can't smoke there because it's part of the restaurant - even though it's outside. Whatever. We got back on 583 (or 580, whatever) and headed east to get on 238 (maybe) to meet 880 (pretty sure) to meet 92 west (yep) and go across the San Mateo bridge. As the traffic stopped on the merging ramp, I couldn't breathe. First anxiety attack of the trip. I smoked a few cigarettes, drank a lot of soda, and felt my pulse a lot. I took a lot of deep breaths and stayed in the right lane. Annie knew what was up and changed the music to something more relaxing. Traffic was fine through the suburbs. I didn't know the bridge was a toll bridge (why was I surprised?), but luckily I had $3 even. We put the windows and enjoyed the cool ocean air. We met up with 101 on the other side, and traffic stopped. Gridlock for a good 45 minutes (again, why was I surprised?). Finally I got off at Fourth street and became utterly fucking confused. My dad had warned me about traffic - but not the streets themselves. I don't even remember where I drove. We ended up on Stockton and Sutter near a parking garage, so I drove around in there and parked. We found a Starbucks ("GOD BLESS STARBUCKS!" - Annie) and peed after trying to figure out if someone was in the bathroom or not. This bitch in pink pants came over and asked us if someone was in there. We said we didn't know. "Is there a key?" We didn't know. "Great!" I asked a guy if there was a key, and he said I had to wait in (the) line (that was out the door) and get it from the register. I told Annie and the bitch, and the bitch got mad. After a few minutes, a guy came and opened the door. We let the bitch go first. The key was attached to a basket. The basket was sitting on the tank of the toilet. I suggested walking down Post to find the cineplex on Fillmore, where we're supposed to park. We found it about 5 miles away. After much bickering, I got fed up and walked back to Stockton St alone to retrieve the car. I tried to call Lindsey so I wouldn't feel so alone in a city full of people, but she didn't answer. She never fucking answers. Worst friend ever. Chris called me, so I talked to him until I got to the parking garage, but by then I needed to pay the fee and the machine wouldn't take my $10; I told him I'd call him back (I never did). I looked at the map in my car to find a one-way street that went west (they all seemed to go east). I decided to go up Stockton to Broadway and west to Fillmore. I didn't know that north on Stockton meant Chinatown. I can practically drive stick now. I mastered using two feet to drive: once one foot starts off the brake, the other hits the gas. I really didn't want to roll backwards into someone. I saw a one-way sign pointing west, so I took it. I don't remember the street's name. I took it to some other street I'd crossed while walking; it went south, which is where I wanted to go. I don't remember which street I took west after that, but it took me to Fillmore, so I was happy and recovering from a slow, constant short-of-breath and drymouth. Another anxiety attack. Little, old Chinese people make nervous. I parked in another garage. Just before turning off the ingnition I heard and felt a loud bang behind me. I thought someone had hit my car, but no. It was motherfucking Annie jumping on my trunk. "Seriously. Chillthefuckout." I used her Albuterol (whatever) inhaler and had a cigarette. Contradictory, shut up. We walked down the block to the Fillmore, past a bunch of douchebags wearing Smashing Pumpkins shirts. Number 1 rule at a show: one must NEVER wear the shirt of the band who is playing. That shit's redundant. They looked at us like we were freaks or something. I was wearing button-fly Levis, blue Vans, the white Joy Division shirt I bought, and a brown wool sportcoat (it was a bit nipply); Annie was wearing jeans, brown and white Converse, and a green sweater with red stripes. We were totally hip. One girl was a wearing a Slayer shirt. What the fuck? Some guy was wearing a cowboy similar to the hat Billy wore in the "Perfect" video. COINCIDENCE? I think not. So they finally let us start in at 8. I really had to pee, so the bathroom was the first place I headed. I went into the main room and joined Annie, Jon, Brian, James, Jade (?), Patrick, and Ally about 20 feet from the stage. We stood there for the next 4 and a half hours. I don't feel like going into detail about the first two bands. In short, they both fucking sucked. Nothing redeeming at all. At all. PERIOD. We think the second band covered a Bright Eyes song. The singer also tried to sound like Conor Oberst while doing some mewithoutYouish spoken word verse. After 20 minutes of setting up and waiting, Billy Corgan and his band came on stage. I had my hands on Annie's shoulders, and she was holding them. We were both shaking. This was the apogee of last six years. He had these white, light panels on the stage behind him and strobe lights on the side. It reminded me of the scene in the "Perfect" video when they were playing in Mink's. You know, when the guy is recording the concert? You know which part I'm talking about. Anyway. The next hour or 80 minutes or so was a compelte blur. I can't begin to describe a thing. We cheered for a good 10 minutes until they came back and did two more songs. In one song, Billy said, "I want to come all over you." And at one point, nobody in the crowd was moving; everyone was in a trance-like state. We didn't have our eyes closed and were swaying a bit. Billy looked at us (we were dead center) and mouthed "what the fuck?" We smiled. Annie cried a lot. It took forever to get out of the theatre. They gave us free posters as we walked out. The first two shitty bands were standing outside waiting for people to want autographs. We walked passed them and snickered. Annie had said she was going to sleep on the way home, but after seeing what I became on the way up, she decided to stay awake and talk. Pacheco Pass was fine. It's different at night. We got into Fresno (meaning Herndon & 99) at about 4:30am. We dropped off Brian at home. Annie called Daniel (he told her to), and we met him at the Denny's by Fashion Fair. By 6am I was falling asleep. I drove back to Sanger after dumping all of Annie's stuff in Daniel's car. I'm going to Daniel's bible study on Tuesday to hear his talk on masturbation. I might go to bible study tonight at the Severns's house before going to the free show at H Street. I don't work until Wednesday. I came home, went to the bathroom (I wouldn't go in the city), and went to sleep. My mom fucking woke me up 1 asking when I went to work. I'd told her a few days. 3. So I couldn't go back to sleep. I went to work at 3. My legs were and are on fire. At least I came with two discs of the second season of Dead Like Me to some Kimya Dawson that had downloaded. So good. Everyone would like it.
And no. He didn't cover any old songs. We heard that he played "Try, Try, Try" sometimes. No.
I met Annie and Brian at Starbucks on Shaw & 41. Luke gave us free coffee. I expect free coffee when I visit you as well, Jon. We probably left at like 11. I saw my brother-in-law Aaron on Shaw. We took 99 north to 152 west. We stopped in Los Banos at a Hollywood Video because they're supposed to have nice bathrooms. I guess I'm spoiled by my store, because that one was nasty. We continued west. There was a warning letting us know that there were accidents on Pacheco Pass, so it would be slow. "Fuck." We saw a sign for I-5. "Wanna just take I-5?" We headed north on I-5. Traffic was fine except for some assholes in SUVs riding my ass. I couldn't move over for them; I was next to a truck full of onions, which smelled really good and made me hungry, while it made Annie sick. She's weird and hates onions. I don't know either. I-5 started heading east, so we got on 583 or 580 (I don't remember); it said "SAN FRANCISCO" on the sign. That's the only reason. Once we got into Pleasanton, I knew we were on the wrong path. I knew we were in East Bay. So we stopped at a Togo's, got something to eat, and consulted the map. We sat outside this sushi place and smoked a few cigarettes. A guy that worked that come outside and told us to leave if we weren't eating and that we can't smoke there because it's part of the restaurant - even though it's outside. Whatever. We got back on 583 (or 580, whatever) and headed east to get on 238 (maybe) to meet 880 (pretty sure) to meet 92 west (yep) and go across the San Mateo bridge. As the traffic stopped on the merging ramp, I couldn't breathe. First anxiety attack of the trip. I smoked a few cigarettes, drank a lot of soda, and felt my pulse a lot. I took a lot of deep breaths and stayed in the right lane. Annie knew what was up and changed the music to something more relaxing. Traffic was fine through the suburbs. I didn't know the bridge was a toll bridge (why was I surprised?), but luckily I had $3 even. We put the windows and enjoyed the cool ocean air. We met up with 101 on the other side, and traffic stopped. Gridlock for a good 45 minutes (again, why was I surprised?). Finally I got off at Fourth street and became utterly fucking confused. My dad had warned me about traffic - but not the streets themselves. I don't even remember where I drove. We ended up on Stockton and Sutter near a parking garage, so I drove around in there and parked. We found a Starbucks ("GOD BLESS STARBUCKS!" - Annie) and peed after trying to figure out if someone was in the bathroom or not. This bitch in pink pants came over and asked us if someone was in there. We said we didn't know. "Is there a key?" We didn't know. "Great!" I asked a guy if there was a key, and he said I had to wait in (the) line (that was out the door) and get it from the register. I told Annie and the bitch, and the bitch got mad. After a few minutes, a guy came and opened the door. We let the bitch go first. The key was attached to a basket. The basket was sitting on the tank of the toilet. I suggested walking down Post to find the cineplex on Fillmore, where we're supposed to park. We found it about 5 miles away. After much bickering, I got fed up and walked back to Stockton St alone to retrieve the car. I tried to call Lindsey so I wouldn't feel so alone in a city full of people, but she didn't answer. She never fucking answers. Worst friend ever. Chris called me, so I talked to him until I got to the parking garage, but by then I needed to pay the fee and the machine wouldn't take my $10; I told him I'd call him back (I never did). I looked at the map in my car to find a one-way street that went west (they all seemed to go east). I decided to go up Stockton to Broadway and west to Fillmore. I didn't know that north on Stockton meant Chinatown. I can practically drive stick now. I mastered using two feet to drive: once one foot starts off the brake, the other hits the gas. I really didn't want to roll backwards into someone. I saw a one-way sign pointing west, so I took it. I don't remember the street's name. I took it to some other street I'd crossed while walking; it went south, which is where I wanted to go. I don't remember which street I took west after that, but it took me to Fillmore, so I was happy and recovering from a slow, constant short-of-breath and drymouth. Another anxiety attack. Little, old Chinese people make nervous. I parked in another garage. Just before turning off the ingnition I heard and felt a loud bang behind me. I thought someone had hit my car, but no. It was motherfucking Annie jumping on my trunk. "Seriously. Chillthefuckout." I used her Albuterol (whatever) inhaler and had a cigarette. Contradictory, shut up. We walked down the block to the Fillmore, past a bunch of douchebags wearing Smashing Pumpkins shirts. Number 1 rule at a show: one must NEVER wear the shirt of the band who is playing. That shit's redundant. They looked at us like we were freaks or something. I was wearing button-fly Levis, blue Vans, the white Joy Division shirt I bought, and a brown wool sportcoat (it was a bit nipply); Annie was wearing jeans, brown and white Converse, and a green sweater with red stripes. We were totally hip. One girl was a wearing a Slayer shirt. What the fuck? Some guy was wearing a cowboy similar to the hat Billy wore in the "Perfect" video. COINCIDENCE? I think not. So they finally let us start in at 8. I really had to pee, so the bathroom was the first place I headed. I went into the main room and joined Annie, Jon, Brian, James, Jade (?), Patrick, and Ally about 20 feet from the stage. We stood there for the next 4 and a half hours. I don't feel like going into detail about the first two bands. In short, they both fucking sucked. Nothing redeeming at all. At all. PERIOD. We think the second band covered a Bright Eyes song. The singer also tried to sound like Conor Oberst while doing some mewithoutYouish spoken word verse. After 20 minutes of setting up and waiting, Billy Corgan and his band came on stage. I had my hands on Annie's shoulders, and she was holding them. We were both shaking. This was the apogee of last six years. He had these white, light panels on the stage behind him and strobe lights on the side. It reminded me of the scene in the "Perfect" video when they were playing in Mink's. You know, when the guy is recording the concert? You know which part I'm talking about. Anyway. The next hour or 80 minutes or so was a compelte blur. I can't begin to describe a thing. We cheered for a good 10 minutes until they came back and did two more songs. In one song, Billy said, "I want to come all over you." And at one point, nobody in the crowd was moving; everyone was in a trance-like state. We didn't have our eyes closed and were swaying a bit. Billy looked at us (we were dead center) and mouthed "what the fuck?" We smiled. Annie cried a lot. It took forever to get out of the theatre. They gave us free posters as we walked out. The first two shitty bands were standing outside waiting for people to want autographs. We walked passed them and snickered. Annie had said she was going to sleep on the way home, but after seeing what I became on the way up, she decided to stay awake and talk. Pacheco Pass was fine. It's different at night. We got into Fresno (meaning Herndon & 99) at about 4:30am. We dropped off Brian at home. Annie called Daniel (he told her to), and we met him at the Denny's by Fashion Fair. By 6am I was falling asleep. I drove back to Sanger after dumping all of Annie's stuff in Daniel's car. I'm going to Daniel's bible study on Tuesday to hear his talk on masturbation. I might go to bible study tonight at the Severns's house before going to the free show at H Street. I don't work until Wednesday. I came home, went to the bathroom (I wouldn't go in the city), and went to sleep. My mom fucking woke me up 1 asking when I went to work. I'd told her a few days. 3. So I couldn't go back to sleep. I went to work at 3. My legs were and are on fire. At least I came with two discs of the second season of Dead Like Me to some Kimya Dawson that had downloaded. So good. Everyone would like it.
And no. He didn't cover any old songs. We heard that he played "Try, Try, Try" sometimes. No.