sweaty happy loud
It was easily above 110 by the stage where I was, it was a giant wet tshirt contest at Sleater-Kinney tonight in Philadelphia and I am blissed out. Those girls will just plug you right into everything righteous. Sad during the first chords, could feel their breakup right then, but after that it wasn't so much. I don't know if literature can do that, in fact I don't think it can just plug you right into the primal thing as fast, that feeling when you tell someone the truth and it is terrifying and harsh and amazing and you just ride it for two hours straight plus the drive home. (At least: such a feeling is a rare thing for me with a book these days.)
Can I just say that Philadelphia is still so punk rock--the girls dancing around were so adorable. I feel like I keep getting flashes of the nineties whenever I see a big crew not all groomed and shiny like New York tends to do to you. And the men of Philadelphia were rocking out so hard--some subversive faction should find a way to play clips of that shit during the OC or the Ashlee Simpson show because the response of a room of hot young dudes to three women not holding a fucking thing back is so beautiful I am at a loss for words.
Anyway, tomorrow is a big day. It is Chuck D's birthday. Did you know that? Also I think something else is happening but I'll let you know when I wake up.