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Ransom and Zeb and my brother came through with their Nolan fan shirts. The logo on the back was last-minute addition suggested by Jenn, of all people.
In case you can't make it out, the shirts read as follows:
Ransom had a lot of nerve asking Kori from Mates of State to sign a shirt covered with phallic symbols.
The show itself was okay, except that Dino's amp was acting up and cutting out intermittently. Which meant some embarassing pauses in the sound that frustrated us. We cut the set short after only five songs. I take those sorts of things especially hard, I think, and they always seem to happen out on the road, never at home at Gabe's or the Green Room when solutions are more immediate and convenient.
On the last song, Dino had a high note that he didn't exactly nail. In the crowd, I saw this big fat guy turn around to his friends, make a face, and pull at the collar of his shirt. In that instant, I hated that guy. I wonder what his band sounds like. Oh, what's that you say? He doesn't have a band? That's what I thought.
After the show I went back to my brother's apartment and drank beer with him and the boys, and Jenn and Katie. It was great fun, as I'd known all along it would be. It made me miss college. I don't miss the classes, but I miss college. I miss the cozy dorm rooms and the Sunday nights in winter. I miss going to the grille and having a snack, hibernating in the library, sitting at my favorite table in the cafeteria. I miss the routine. I miss the legitimizing effect of a student ID and a course of study.
But that's a different journal entry. |