get real drunk and ride our bikes

Went to see Minneapolis heroes, The Hold Steady, on Thursday. It was only $8 and like I said in an earlier post, I would have gladly paid ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS to see them. They are amazing live. Craig Finn leads you through his clever analogies and word plays with big smiles and follow the bouncing ball hand movements. Plus he just looks like he’s having a crazy good time up there. It’s contagious. I grinned the whole set. Ear to ear.

The place was packed and there were lots of people from work. One of the music critics knew Finn, and once being informed of my Minneapolis status, introduced me. Due to my drunkenness and penchant for over-excitability anyway, I came off a bit 14 year old. A bit groupie. A bit hometown girl wanting to talk about playing the Triple Rock. He seemed to get it. Upon returning to the group, I vowed to never wash my hand again. Of course I did. But I waited a little longer than I maybe should have. Remember, Pisces have sketchy hygiene.

The rest of the night was all about the booze and the bad judgment. I drank way way too much. My friends here are so West Coast. Drinking pricey vodka and Red Bull. Keeping things on the down low. Listening to hip hop and talking about turn tables. I gave a knowing look to Mike when Finn asked from the stage if you’ve ever been to a place that had a DJ that really shouldn’t have had a DJ - - like a laundromat or a party with 4 people. I reminded him of the 8th grade birthday party he “spun” for. Sometimes, it’s just too easy.

Sometimes, I’m just too easy.

Found a brainy boy in the corner and started talking books. The conversation was slow and soaked in alcohol. Ulysses came up. Joyce. Stream of consciousness. The last few pages about sex and love and falling asleep. He said it was about the Male Penetrating Gaze and the Female Yes. I loved that idea. The Female Yes. Female. Yes. Held onto it the whole night. Let it kick around my head. Bounce off the walls. Tacit approvals and unspoken green lights. Air you can cut with a knife. The meeting in the middle for the kiss that changes everything. Going from here to there with closed eyes and eager tongues. Wondering what in the hell you’ve just done. Soft sighs and wandering hands. Wandering minds. Once you cross that line it’s yours. You can’t put it back. Undo. Rewind. Reverse. Recalculate. Rethink. Think at all. The female yes. Female yes. Female. Yes.

Where were we?

At the part about falling asleep or maybe waking up. Friday morning with a headache and a slow stroll to Zeitgeist. They know what I want when they see me. I like these mornings when I don’t have to speak other than a quiet “thank you” and a dollar tip. Pour in the half and half and sneak out the door. Squinting in the 7am sun. Last night’s lyrics rushing through my head: “Taxmen coming around the back with the kevlar vests. Militia men cooking up a batch of crystal meth. There's a war going down in the middle west. There's a war going down in the middle western states. The kevlar vests against the crystal flakes.” The music. The booze. The Female Yes. About standing on tippy toes to peek over the shoulder of the giant in front of me. About bouncing up and down to the rhythm of a bass drum. The club stamp still on the inside of my wrist. Time to go to work.