magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

This morning I typed up last Wednesday's entry about my neurotic inability to call anyone on the phone just to ask what they're up to. For example, as regards possibly going to see a show. A few hours later, Lindsey called to ask if I was interested in going to see a show. 'It's a friend of mine's band,' she told me. 'I don't really want to go alone, but I feel like I should go out to support them.'

Of course, I ended up turning her down. Not because she said 'They're kind of metal. Sort of kitschy metal. Would that make you want to kill yourself?' But more because the show was in Brooklyn, 'on Grand Street' she said, and didn't start until around nine. It's barely ten as I write this, and it feels like midnight, at least, so I think I probably made the right choice. Plus I did kind of need to get home to give Chesterfield her medicine, and pay my rent.

After she called though, I looked up the show. Which, even from the little info I had, wasn't hard. Where on Grand Street, other than Trash Bar, would a kitschy metal band play. And on the bill, and certainly kitschy metal, is Valient Thorr. I don't know if that's her friend's band, or if he's in one of the other bands playing, but Valient Thorr was the band that Chris and Sarah's coworker wanted to go see on that night six months ago, the night that I saw Gold Streets, who were the indirect subject of my social misgivings from last week.

It's odd how these things all tie together. And continue to do so. The probable reason that she would have been going to the show alone is that Dominick/Prurient is on tour. Dominick whose latest album, Black Vase, received a glowing review in this month's The Wire, which was waiting in my mailbox when I got home.