rocking out on a Friday night
This week was extremely dull. Monday was a holiday for most of the company where I work, but not for my department. No employees equals no issues coming in, so I had little to do. Sure, I could have cleaned my desk and organized some of my files, but why? Then Tuesday and Wednesday the city shut down from the snow storm, so again I was left with out much to do but read e-books at my workstation all day. Needless to say I was pretty antsy by Friday, but that’s all right. I had a show to go to.
“Is there going to be dancing?” Johanna asked as we pulled out onto the freeway.
“It depends on what you want to call dancing,” I laughed. We were on our way to see the venerable Punk Group and the Epoxies, where I thoroughly indulged in the kind of dancing that goes on at these shows, the kind of dancing that involves pushing and shoving and throwing other people on top of the crowd to go surfing. For all the roughing up that goes on, though, you’ll never find a group of people more willing to pull you back up on your feet after they’ve knocked you down on the ground than the punks in a mosh pit.
And there’s nothing like a good rock show to get the writing juices flowing. More coming soon. Seriously this time.
Oh yeah, the show kicked ass, by the way.
you didn’t stop by my house after. I am a little disappointed.
(actually I’m just assuming that you didn’t stop by because I was out at Mulligans, but either way I’m disappointed.)
It was late, and we were rocked out. Next time, Sib, next time. And you should have come with us, the Epoxies were awesome. I would gladly have tossed you on top of a group of sweaty strangers so that you could have experienced crowd surfing.
We must hang out soon. It’s a moral imperative.