Elk of the Month

Well the first weekend of the new year has come and gone. I've officially been "active" this year, I guess you could say. Hooray! So how did I spend it?

Friday- enter Molly. Haven't seen this girl in months. I molested her at Penn Station and we proceeded to make our way downtown. We found a delightfully overcrowded coffee shop (I had a latte, she went Americana) and successfully filled in our opinions, dialogues, and emotions that facebook pictures had left out. In other words, we got to know each other - in that 'since the last time I saw you' kind of way. After that we headed for dinner. Already reacquainted, we shifted focus off of ourselves and onto everyone else. Who's doing what? Who's doing who? You know - the essentials. Unfortunately even the best dinnereunions face their hour of expiration. We said goodbye, knowing it'd be another few months before we'd get to do this all again. But hopefully when the real world crashes into me, she'll be somewhere near the wreckage and we won't have to wait so long in between these dates.

Saturday - enter colby and This Condition. Avoiding the monotony of home and embracing the chaotic humor of a band on tour, I went to Jersey. I rode the New Jersey transit for the very first time and met Colby and her rambunctious best friend Roseanne on one of Newark's finest street corners. Fast forward a few hours. Colby and I are sitting on the front steps of the Point Pleasant Elk's Lodge. A 16 year old girl double fisting her cig and her cell asks us to wave to her grandmother sitting in a car 500 feet away to prove we aren't dangerous. I feel fantastically old.

I love going to see This Condition's out of state shows because the venues are usually more entertaining and the people you meet become characters in your next blog. We came to the show that night under the impression the guys would be the second act out of about six or seven bands. Our impression was soon erased, and the band was rewritten into the headlining spot. As it slowly became apparent that there would be lots of not-so-good bands to sit through Colby and I conveniently relocated ourselves into the lodge's basement - at the bar. It was one of the best ideas we've had. We signed in as visiting Elks, took a seat, and threw back Coors Light pints for a $1.25. And as an added bonus we got to meet Karen. I loved Karen! Perfect bar linguist. By the end of the night we had infused enough of our thoughts and opinions into her that she was swapping nicknames and insults with our musician counterparts. I miss her.

After the show, which was superb, there's always a series of events that prolong the night's demise. Nate - who often brings horsing around to the next level - accidentally knocked over the merch table. Thankfully it was the end of the night and nothing was on it. Except for me. Ouch. We also made a trip to Applebees where Mike learnt the difference between 1/2 price appetizers and eating twice as many appetizers. As you can see, we're learning big lessons here. Eventually we did find our way back to Colby's for quality sleep over arrangements and the end of Armegeddon.

Sunday - enter the longest day ever. I won't say much about Sunday because I really can't summarize the 9 hours I spent at a Paramus VFW. I am slowly realizing however, that elderly men and their organization halls are extremely supportive of the punk scene. Cheers to that. I spent the day persuading adolescent girls to love This Condition, eating cupcakes, and genuinely being supportive of my friends. By hour 7 or 8 I had gotten a second wind (or reached delirium) and found myself jumping on top of people and singing songs I didn't know I knew.

Finally we ended the way all good nights and days should end - at a diner. I love diners. I feel like they spur the best conversations, even if they lack any real depth. And after a solid band-filled weekend, I find diners even more valuable. They have that comfortable caught-up in the moment atmosphere that lets the check sit on the table for as long as laughter holds it down.

After ALL that, I hopped in the van (solidifying my groupie status) and we drove back to New York. It was quiet - except for the songs that brought us back a few years - and completely perfect. Passing street lamps offered just the right light and you could tell everybody was thinking. If the diner meant unwinding with your friends, this was unraveling yourself. It was warm (and not just because I was sitting next to a teddy bear wearing teal skinny jeans).

That was long. But if you're reading this, that means you made it! Thanks for staying interested...

Love,
Tim