battle stations ready!

i was fully prepared to wage a misguided war yesterday. i had the battle armor on, the tactics in place, the hair blowdried and perfectly coiffed (inasmuch as i'm ever able to do)...i was ready. i was heading to the battlefield to take down some spectres from my past.

only they had the gall to turn down the battle and actually behave.

bastards.

they had the gall to have grown up a little bit and become...i don't know. nice, i guess. it was a little strange. maybe it was just that we were united by a common denominator (one of our favorite people ever is leaving nyc), or maybe just that we'd had some distance...but we had things to talk about. we had lives. we were in pretty good places. we were civilized. that was weird.

of course, the spell could only last for so long. before the evening was over, we had an infusion of a group of disaffected and dour hipsters throwing a wrench in the dynamic, as well as plenty of editorializing by this beastly girl about how awful my music is (yes, my music, she heard the cd) and how she could totally make it better because she knows how to make everything better with the sixteen instruments she plays and how her demo is so great and fully orchestrated and...blah blah blah. it's not surprising, though. this was our first exchange:

beast heathen: how old are you?

shivery:---mumbled something about my age---

b.h.:really? i thought you were much younger.

s: hm. how old did you think i was?

b.h.: nineteen. maybe eighteen. you seem really young. <editor's note: no one ever, ever thinks i'm younger than i actually am. ever. usually, people guess on the upward side by about five years> 'cause, you know. i try not to judge anyone on the way they dress.

i don't understand what the part about judging me on my dress was all about. but i was insulted nonetheless.

anyway. that's hardly the way to introduce yourself, is it? and from that point on, she looked as though she was just desperate to find a chink in the armor and really stick it to me, because somehow, someway, i deserved her ire.

whatever. her fucking loss. she's a great musician. we could have done some great stuff collaboratively. but if i ever see her again, i can't be held responsible for what's going to come out of my mouth, or which direction my fists will be flying.

but hey.

i don't fully understand the purpose of trying to alienate people upon meeting them. what does that prove? is it supposed to be some sort of assertion of social dominance? does it make you better than me that you have harnessed the power of bitch? does maligning my music make you a better musician?

rant rant rant

rave rave rave

fester fester fester.

ballyhoo!

fortunately for me, the rest of the weekend was really quite fun and festive. and, for the record, for all of you who were at the jebenezer's on saturday and witnessed my gin-soaked behavior: NOTHING HAPPENED. so stop asking.

and now: on to the next great question: am i ready to make the flip phone revolution, or will i stick by some old standards?

watch this space for more answers...