Pardon my silence. Things got a bit busy towards the end of my vacation there. And yesterday i was just exhausted. When I got home from work, I basically slept, woke up a for a bit, slept, woke up for even less of a bit and slept through the night until 4 am.
My punk rock friend Kam was in town this weekend. On Friday night we went to see Turbonegro at the Showbox. I’m going to be honest with you, I had no idea who the were. But this was one of the main reasons for Kam’s visit, although she tends to drop by for a weekend at least once a year.
Whatever opening acts they had, we missed. The place was crowded and we were standing towards the back. Finally they band came out. Turbonegro wears cute little outfits, alá The Village People. There was a sailor, a man in a top hat and tux jacket, a man with a hard hat, another with what appeared to be a German army officer hat and coat, the lead singer was dressed like a hippy, and the drummer was a gang banger. I stayed and watched about three songs. Then the lead singer said we all needed to be taught a lesson about death punk and the wearing of denim as a second skin. Wearing denim is of some significance to fans of Turbonegro I guess. But the thing is, I really don’t think I need to learn any more about death punk. I know about as much as I care to know. And I’ve been wearing denim all my life. So I went to hang out in the Green Room, drink cokes with cherries and read The Stranger.
But Kam enjoyed it. And that’s what’s important. I only wish I had the chance to practice my limited Norwegian on someone.
Welcome back stranger. Can’t believe that you didn’t want to thrash to punk death rock denim blues kind of thing.
Limited Norwegian sounds like a cool band name.
I am often asked if I still write. I usually just smile. I offer no answer, short story or long, the answer is no. I take time once a week, and get drunk and talk about books, but I am no closer to writing one then I was 10 years ago. Ten years ago I stepped off the bus in Montreal, 50 Dollars in my wallet and a couple of changes of clothes in a bag. 2 Years later I would be doing something very similar, but that morning I would have no money or belongings. As I had gotten drunk the night before in the Toronto Bus Station. And wondered the streets drunk for 4 hours while I screamed and threw my personal items and passers-by. I had lost my portable manual typewriter. Which I just called the portable. I had previously a large electric Panasonic. But it was useless for this mode of travel, and for this type of life style. I needed durability and functionality. The portable was lost, and with it all my notes. But like I said that happens later on in the story.