So I am sitting in a closet right now, perched on a step ladder, watching on-comers walker in and out of those glass doors. The band tonight is totally balls, in my opinion. Not to say the musicians can't play their instruments, or the melodies don't blend together well - but I just kind of hate "metal" sellouts who spend too much time gelling their hair, and buying pre-ripped jeans , trying to convince themselves they are real, bad-ass rockers. Not to mention their make-uppy girlfriends. AND, who's the dude with the leather-spike choker? Someone's gotta tell that guy that Evanescence is no longer cool...
The good thing about this 5' by 5' box is I've made it feel like a total hideout. The coats that hang above and below me are covering just enough of the over-head light to make me feel like I've ran away. When I kneel down to get something on the floor, and look up at the small over-sized window out at the bar, I feel like a little kid hiding out. If only no one could actually see me!
Sitting here, writing this with a black, dull sharpie, while other occupants in the building drink alcoholic beverages, makes me feel even more like a seven year old, waiting for her dad to finish socializing so he can take me home. It is almost 10pm...way past my weekday bedtime!
Oh boy! I'm getting tired, speaking of bedtime. And I just realized that I really have to pee. WHERE IS JAMES!!
Oh, yes, here is Matty to releave me from my agony!
Written on a slow Saturday night in coat check.