:: Electric Psychedelic Pussycat Swinger's Club ::

:: Wednesday, October 27, 2004 ::

surreal

Hanging out in a classroom at an art school. Checking out some of the works they have out on display. Scene shifts to the hallway during passing period. Brad Pitt is part of my skateboarding crew and we're bullshitting in the hallway. Leader of a rival skateboarding gang challenges Pitt to a race. Brad's jamming down the hall and the rival gang leader takes his board out from underneath him. I run down to get Brad's back and cross-check rival gang member into the lockers.

Same backdrop, only now there are a group of senior citizens roaming the hallways, preparing to leave for the airport. They need my help with carrying their luggage across the campus. Everyone loads their heavy luggage atop baby camels and rides them to the cab that's waiting outside. Everyone except me. I feel bad for the baby camels so I carry one grandma's luggage myself.

What a weird dream. No more eating spicy burritos before bed.

* * *

In other news, I caught Pinback in Williamsburg on Saturday night. They're very good live, but the sound system at North Six isn't spectacular. T & A came along for the ride and we ghettoed it up by paper-baggin' it before the show on some stoops across the street. This resulted in multiple counts of public urination by A, which led to a cop car rolling by and suddenly stopping. A didn't even have his pants buttoned when the pigs barked out an order calling him over. Next thing you know, T, who had a pipe on her, disappeared and it was later revealed that she took off running to stash her illegal substances. Meanwhile, I managed to get away from the several bottles of beer that we had finished, which were still right where we left them - by the cop car. I slowly made myself disappear as well by strolling over to the other side of the street and jumping inside the venue. T and I, both aspiring lawyers, realized that a citation for possession of contraband or public consumption of alcohol probably wouldn't fair well for being admitted to the bar.

Later, A explains to us in his drunken stupor that he somehow mananged to convince the cops that he wasn't urinating, but rather throwing away a cigarette. When asked what the wet substance on the sidewalk was, A calmly responds that it's probably piss - but not his - and that it's been there for a while. He even goes on to suggest they come and check it out if they didn't believe him. Amazingly, they let him go. I guess both parties knew what he was up to, but they hadn't caught him in the act.

What a funny evening.

Tonight it's De La Soul in Times Square with Pete Rock opening. This should be a good one.

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