from the glacier

My lovely e. is in Washington D.C. visiting friends, so here I am, at home in the "great" midwest, with John, Andy and Sara: ages 1 to 4, for the weekend. Oh, and if that were not enough to scare most men, my ears are still fucking ringing from the punk show we went to last night, (and yes, BR still shreds in their old age) in the last forty-eight hours I have eaten precisely and only three pastor tacos, and drank ten beers as my only sustenance. (Plus the five gallons of coffee I drink a day, and the Camels) I got kicked in the head by a fucking crowd surfer with a mohawk, while listening to Murphy's Law cover "Someone Got Their Head Kicked In" by Black Flag. I love irony. Pennywise sang "Fuck Authority" and "Bro Hymn" which strangely reminds me of one Daniel Fluery. At work today I answered phones and talked to morons all with the ever present ringing of Tinitis in my ears.

I raised my middle finger in angst with the kids. I shouted lyrics to Bad Religion songs I have loved since my misspent youth. I fucking threw elbows at the ever-expanding mosh circle. I bought over-priced beer in handfuls, using the pockets of my ancient "seminar shirt" [blue with pinstripes and a red skull patch over the left chest - come on, you've seen it] to hold spare cans of full beer. My steel toed Docks kicked shins. My glasses we "re-adjusted" by elbows - of other people. Sick of it All covered "Minor Threat" and we all loved every minute of it. (well, it is only one minute long, anyway - fuck it, it is only punk rock)

Which brings me to my point. FUCK IT, IT IS ONLY PUNK ROCK. (aside - I miss the mohawk I used to have. . .) That was the most authentic Dasein I have seen in years. Sadly.