Sunday, March 08, 2009

Cantab, 3.7.09


Cameraphone Photo: "Versus the Empties"

Best Cantab night yet. We witnessed a protracted physical fight between woman and man, which involved the much shorter female throwing a drink at the male, then trying to claw the male's shirt apart. The male willingly and aggressively fought back, like a total piece of shit...during "Love Train," no less.

The band was ON tonight, and I don't think I've ever seen them turn in a finer performance. Diane Blue's harmonica solos were earth-shattering. The Couper brothers played like they hadn't played the same show every weekend for the past X years. Candy was not fucking around, and never hit a bad note.

But Bruce the Goose, the formidable sax player, stole the show with his ability to make everything and anything better with the breathy blow of his horn.

I went into the bathroom to take a piss. Bruce the Goose entered behind me. The toilet was occupied, and the urinal was free. I conceded my turn to Bruce. "You can have my turn," I said, and began to exit. "You're a fucking monster on that thing." Bruce the Goose nodded as if he expected this, walked by me, looked at the sink, and looked back at me.

"Dude, someone fuckin' yakked in the sink," was all he said.

Warren the bartender was true to his nature. Even though we tried to avoid him, he managed to find me and act like a complete scumbag. The next time I entered the bathroom, I found him there, taking a piss. He looked at me with his beady eyes, while still pissing, and said, "You can't wait outside, you fucking asshole?" He shook his head and made a clicking sound with his fat, fat lips. "Now I have to go to the kitchen to wash my hands, you fucking asshole."

I looked him dead in the eyes and said, "You're a negative person." He sulked off, and I hope he washed his hands.

Out in the street, it was a party in Central. No police this time. As is often the case in Boston, no one met anyone, and everyone went home with the people they came with. Frat boys returned to talking about playing Halo all day. Girls ushered girls into cabs and left immediately.

We ran into Bruce the Goose again, and I mentioned something about being a musician. He said to come to the open mic he hosts near Faneuil and handed me a crumpled flyer from his pocket. I said something in resoponse.

"Just bring your shit," he said, and walked off.

Andrew greeted random people on the street. We could have fought some guys from Brazil, but they were actually friendly and we alternatingly traded turns for pizza at Hi-Fi. I declared war on the hoarders of the hot pepper and the parmesan, taking their shit and telling them that this is how it works in the city.

Outside, some african-americans were giving an asian american a hard time. "I'm a grown-ass man. I'll slap you with a grown-ass hand," said the young-looking "thirty-six year old" af-am to the marauding asian who kept telling him that he didn't mean any disrespect by calling him "boy."

A much larger african-american took the-asian american aside and told him: "You don't say boy, man. You don't say boy,man."

Boys and men and all the girls are all gone. A cab offered to take us home, so home we went.

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1 Comments:

Blogger cwkemmerer said...

"im a grown ass man, Ill slap you with a grown ass hand...." f'ing amazing rhetoric.

5:36 PM  

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