“Ball so hard, this shit crazy”
It was a money-draining party and I had a blast.
Heart Of Douche-ness or “The Imperialism Of Young Assholes”
Take up the White Mans Burden, Hipsters. Conquer the middle class with your bougie contempt and self-loathing fashion. But don’t complain when you’re branded the enemy.
EULA, Life Size Maps & More at Shea Stadium
Five great bands at a Friday show in Shea Stadium.
Silent Barn Public Meeting Tomorrow
Panelists gather to discuss All Ages venues, with some necessary rocking out.
alt-J at Glasslands
Lead singer Joe Newman asked us to sweat with him and we did.
Happy Birthday Elliott Smith
Elliott was my Kurt Cobain, my Elvis, my Jackie O. When I heard the news that he stabbed himself to death in 2003, I called up my dad and started crying. When I saw him perform in 1998, my dad wouldn’t let us stay after the show to try and meet him because it was a “school night.” The next day I choked back sobs in the shower. Before I ever saw him live, all his Kill Rock Star releases came to me in the mail and I laid on the floor in my barely teenage bedroom with my headphones on and listened to “Roman Candle” over and over again. I can still feel that pretty burn.
After you died I wrote on the mural on Sunset Blvd: “Everybody knows/You only live a day/But it’s brilliant anyway.” Thank you Elliott. I miss you.