My Etsy Shop

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Excited for Halloween



I am excited for Halloween. This is what I will look like.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Adventures with MAN MAN

So, I've put on my make up and painted my short tomboy nails black. I've made sure that I've styled my new haircut in just the right way. I already decided to wear a white men's undershirt and my jeans. I will not dress up tonight. Tonight is not the night to look sexy; tonight is about having fun watching an amazing band perform. Tonight is about MAN MAN.

As I exit I4, onto Colonial, I notice the heavy traffic and large construction sign arrows that tell me I can't turn where I would like. Orange Ave is closed. This makes me nervous, as I'm not sure how to get to where I'd like to park. I try a few different streets and can't figure out how to get close, so I find spot near an easily identifiable street. I notice that the sign on the parking meter has a time limit during which one must pay, and the time has passed. I gather my things, hide my purse, etc, and prepare for a long walk to the venue.

When I get close to Orange Ave, I realize why it is closed. There was some sort of festival or parade today. There are still vendor tents and stages being packed up. The street is littered with trash. I have never walked down the middle of Orange Ave at night before. It looked like some sort of post-apocolyptic city, where scavengers scrape together any thing they might be able to use to further their survival.

There is a girl walking with two guys far ahead of me. I somehow know they are headed to the same place. We all walk with determination and excitement. However, I don't catch up to them and arrive in line a few people behind them. This area of the street is open and looks like a living city again. It is now 9:00, doors should be opening soon . . . . hopefully.

It is no surprise that at 9:30 the doors are still not opened. I have stood in line for thirty minutes listening to other people's conversations and reading street signs. I keep reading the parking sign on the side of the road.

"2 Hour Parking
8pm - 2am"

I suddenly get paranoid. What did the sign by my car say again? I can't remember. I thought it said "8am - 6pm", but what if it said "8pm - 6am"! I continued to read the sign I could see: "Violators will be ticketed . . . " oh, good, just ticketed, I can pay a ticket, " . . . and towed." Oh crap. I don't have my cell phone in this tiny little clutch that barely fit the two automatic cameras I brought. If I get towed . . . well, I don't know what I would do.

As the seconds tick by, I get more paranoid. So I try to calm myself down. Ok, Emily, the doors haven't even opened yet. Even if they open in five seconds, it's ok, the show will not start right away. You will not miss anything; go check on your car.

By this time, I am 100% sure I read the sign wrong. I am positive there will be a ticket, and I am hoping against hope that my car has not been towed. I walk back through the trash and litter, and walk the six blocks back to my car. Finally, the end is in sight. I see my car. It is not towed. A sigh of relief.

I begin crossing a side street, where one of the festival vendors is exiting past the road closed sign. My eyes are on my car. I'm not sure if I thought it would drive away as I approached, but my eyes do not leave the car.

I trip on the base of the road closed sign.

Ow.

I land on the palms of my hands and my side. My legs are protected by the thick calve-high leather boots I am wearing underneath my jeans, but my hands are shredded. Also, my clutch has come apart. Passersby ask if I'm all right. "Yeah" I say, and struggle to get up.

I retrieve my purse and get in my car. My right hand is bleeding and the skin is hanging off. My left hand hurts but doesn't look too bad. (It would not be until the next day that I would notice my knuckles are a bruised-purple. I would tell my co-workers I got in a fight, and they would not believe me. I am not the fighting type.)

I look at the parking sign. "8am-6pm" There was no reason to return to my car at all. The time to pay has passed. This is now free parking until 8am tomorrow. Oh well, I say and brush it off. I find a bandaid in my car, but it will not stay attached to my sweaty, bloody hand. I look at my purse and realize that the loop that is still on my wrist has the zipper piece attached. The zipper is sure to come apart on my clutch. I find a small emergency bag of safety pins and begin the work of putting my dollar-store purse back together. Satisfied with my work, I leave my car once again. 9:45

Back through the apocolypse, which is looking less and less apocolyptic as the time goes by. It no longer has the same feeling now that I know that ahead only a few blocks life lives on.

I see the line to the Social. It is wrapped around the block. No one has gone in yet. Almost 10. I've missed nothing. The line begins to move, but incredibly slowly. One of the employees is checking ID's and applying wrist bands to those over 21, black X's for those under. I have difficulty removing my license from my back pocket because of bloody wound. (I put it there when walking back to the car. If I were mugged, I could eaily hand my purse over with nothing but two disposable cameras in it, and still have my valuables.)

I put out my left hand to receive the wrist band. "No, your right one" says the man. I extend my bleeding hand, and he attaches the wrist band saying "Try not to bleed on me". We laugh. The blood is pooling up in my palm as I try to keep my hand elevated until I can get inside and clean it.

There is a girl behind me with white face paint on, and Honus-style facial hair drawn in. I want to tell her she looks awesome and that I wish I had done the same, but my shyness takes over. I continue moving with the line wishing I was the type of person who could talk to strangers. (My mother recently told me it amazes her how I've grown out of my shyness as I've become an adult. She said this because I had co-workers over for a game night. I wanted to explain to her that just because I no longer hide behind her skirt, does not mean I've outgrown my shyness. I worked with those people for two years before inviting them into my home. My shyness may not always be as obvious as it once was on the outside, but on the inside, I know the truth.)

By the time I approach the ticket taker, someone comments on her face paint, and I take the opportunity to tell her she looks awesome. "I look like a dude," she replies. "No," I say, "You look like a man . . . man." The last man we say in unison. "Ba-zing!" she onomatopoeias. I smile to myself as I walk inside, proud.

I take a quick look around, for my friend from class. I needed someone else here that I knew in case I felt panicked about being in such a crowded place. I figure she's not here yet. It's still early. I go to the bathroom to wash my wounds and hope that when I return that bar stool in the corner will still be available.

It is.

I rest on my perch and watch the people pour in. I see Elysse, but she walks quickly to the bar, friends in tow. At least I know she's here. I know someone else here, I repeat to myself like a mantra. A few minutes later, she walks by again, I call her and she has been wondering where I was. We all step outside to talk before the show starts, mostly about school.

When we go back inside, we find a nice spot next to the bar to lean, just as the opening act goes on. "Have you ever heard of him?" I ask. "My friend says he's really out there," she replies. There is a projector on the stage. Two men stand in front, one is some sort of DJ in front of some sort of machine (can't see much from this position at the back). Tim Fite has a mostly shaved head and dressed rather nicely, yet still looks somehow odd. Its in his eyes.

The projection begins to play videos. Some videos have the words of the songs with animation. Some videos have Tim Fite himself playing other instruments and singing, and appears on stage as a whole band of Tim Fites. I am not going to talk much about the actual music, as I am no music-reviewer. I am just telling the story of an adventure. If you want to hear Tim Fite, you should look him up or watch these videos. Every song has an introduction told by the gentleman with itchy legs (Tim Fite).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjR7e8YOoeo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ApqLm_7IYc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SiM0ajQ6--Q

I quickly realized this was not the type of music to be listened to passively while I leaned against a bar. I needed to be closer. I let my friend know, and I made my way towards the right side of the venue, near the stage. Tim Fite really hooks you in. You must listen to the music, watch the videos, buy the albums. You must.

I look around for a moment, and notice a familiar face sitting to the side. That's Pow Pow. What should I do? Should I say hi? Brotherman would say hi. Brotherman is brave. Oh, gosh, I feel like I would be bothering him.

I walk to the merch table to see if Little Torments is available yet. It is. I also see the t-shirt my brother wanted. Merry Christmas Brotherman. Pow Pow walks to the table. I have nerve.

"Hey, are you who I think you are?"
"That depends, who do you think I am?"
"I think you're in MAN MAN.
I think you're Pow Pow"
"Yeah"
"Would you mind signing my shirt?"
(I had already pulled the sharpie out of my purse when I noticed him earlier.)
He signs on the bottom right.
I ask him what his real name is, "Chris". It occurs to me then that I knew that already but in the excitement of the adventure had forgotten it. It also occurs to me that I had never realized he had my brother's name. I ask him if he'll take a picture with me, so that I can make Brotherman jealous. (Yes, I actually said that part.) He obliges.

I go back to my friend still leaning against the bar to tell her of my adventure so far. She seems excited for me, but not excited enough to return to the spot with me. I return alone, and find a seat this time, just as Tim Fite is finishing.

I notice a man standing next to Pow Pow (Chris). I'm pretty sure that's Sergei Sogay, but I never have been absolutely positive that is his pseudonym. However, there is one huge difference. In every picture I've seen of him, he has a long beard. This man is clean shaven, and because of this looks much younger. I think Pow Pow notices I'm staring; not sure what he thinks about that though. I'm still trying to decide if that is really Sergei when I see Chang Wang. Yes, I decide, that is Chang Wang. I approach.

"Hey, will you sign my shirt?"
"Sure"
He motions for me to turn around and begins to write in large letters on my back. While he is doing this I ask "You're Chang Wang, right?" "Yeah" "What's youre real name?" I couldn't hear what he said. I realize later that he lost his voice. (During the show, he is able only to sing the really high parts, and uses a bullhorn much of the time)

I point at who I believe to be Sergei and ask "Doesn't he usually have a beard?" "Yes," he says and I understand, but I can't understand more than that. I ask "What's his name?" "Sergei" he replies. I ask Sergei to sign my shirt. He goes above the right sleeve and he dots the I with a heart. I ask him his real name. "Chris" he says. "Oh, like him" and I point to Pow Pow. I don't mention this is my brother's name.

I ask if he will take a picture with me, and I ask Chang Wang to join us.



"Thanks" I say.
"Thanks for blinding me" Sergei (Chris) says.
"Oh, I'm sorry!"
"No, I'm kidding. I kid cause I love."
"What are you guys gonna play tonight?"
"All of them"
"I wish. That would take hours."
"You don't want me to ruin the surprise do you?"
Reluctantly I agree.

They begin setting up now. I find a spot closer to the stage, which was difficult as not many of the people there went outside during the break. It takes a long time for them to set up. The entire time "Don't worry, be happy" is playing. I realized at one point that it is now midnight and they have not yet begun to play. I have to work in the morning. I remind myself to stop worrying about such things, and enjoy myself. I also notice they are not wearing all white. I have a mild feeling of disappointment about this. They all leave the stage. The song plays about five more times. Don't worry, be happy. Don't worry, be happy. By this time, every time the song starts again the crowd gets restless. I wonder how people smart enough to like MAN MAN are dumb enough to get upset over the "Don't worry, be happy" song. The must have read my mind and now they start to cheer everytime it starts again. Some of us sing along.

MAN MAN re-emerges.

In white.

From this point on, it is an indescribable mush of excitement. I am not the only one who knows all the words, and am a little ashamed to say that others may have known them better. There is no break between songs. One song leads into another. The challenge is to figure out from the first the five seconds which song it might be so that your brain can download the lyrics in time to sing along. Things are thrown into the crowd. The band members are constantly moving, up down, left right, switching places, jumping on top of their seats, pulling props out of hidden places and throwing things into the crowd again. Coins! Water! Firecrackers!

Excitment and adrenaline aside, it was nice to be able to attach faces and objects to noises.
So that's who makes that noise there, I always wondered.
Oh, that sound is from keys? That's awesome, I wish I had mine.

At some point, MAN MAN runs off stage. I'm not sure if they planned to come back on or if the chanting from the crown drew them back, but they returned.

When they finish this time, it is for real.

Lights go off.

My heart drops a little.

People head out the door or to the merch table. I still have to get Little Torments and that t-shirt. While waiting in line I notice Critter Crat. He played the whole show with a broken hand. I walk over to him and ask him to sign my shirt. I have to help hold my left sleeve while he draws muscles on my arm. He signs "Critter Crat" and draws a heart with an arrow through it. (all with a broken hand) He says his name is Russell and he broke his hand punching a wall. (not sure if that's true) I take a picture with him and say "Now the only one left is Honus." "He'll be out soon" Critter (Russell) says. I stand back in line at the merch table next to the white face paint and facial hair girl. I lend her a couple bucks so she can get a copy of Little Torments since I already didn't have enough to get everything I wanted.

Once I have my goodies, I notice that Honus is out here talking to people. Lots of people want to talk to Honus. The girl in front of me asks to take a picture with him. They begin to walk away together and I say determinedly "Real quick, yours is the only signature I'm missing from my shirt." He finds a blank spot on my stomach and begins to right. (People boo that he chose this spot as opposed to another.) I didn't even look at what he wrote before asking him If I could also take a picture with him when he was done with the other girl. I wouldn't notice til the next night that he wrote "Stay Foxy Honus".

While waiting, I notice Tim Fite standing right next to me. I introduced myself and began talking.

"I've never seen you before, I really enjoyed what you do."
"Thanks"
"Where are you from?"
"New York, where are you from?"
"Here basically, grew up in florida, born in Texas." (This is always my answer by the way, I never don't mention Texas no matter if it is the cashier in the grocery store or Tim Fite)

We talk Texas for a while. He keeps getting interrupted by text messages; he says he doesn't know who they're from. He looks up from his phone and says "I can't find my friends."
"What are you talking about? I'm your friend! I'm right here."
"Oh, that's right, you are! It's been a long time."
"Yeah, how long has it been? Years?"
"Yeah, it's been since Texas."
"Yeah, and I was only like 3 then."
"Yeah, I was 3 too!"
"Can I get a picture with you?"

He comments on my disposable camera, and agrees with me it is the best thing for a concert when you don't want a good camera to get damaged.

Honus comes back and Tim Fite disappears. Honus suggests the man at the merch table takes our picture. Everyone seems duly impressed with my real film camera, disposable though it may be. This would be the only picture of the night where I would come out looking like poopoo. It wasn't till the next night, when I read the shirt that I would be encouraged to think maybe I didn't look like poopoo in person at that moment. I thank him and begin to leave.

I have to pause by the stairs and undo the safety pins on my purse to replace the camera. I am having a hard time with this because the wound on my hand has really begun to hurt. I look up and notice Sergei. Not sure what he was thinking at that moment. I wish now that I had said something "Great job." "You were awesome." "I loved it." But my shyness kicks back in and I feel I have overstayed my welcome. The place is almost empty. I leave the building and put on the t-shirt I bought Brotherman over my signed shirt. I wouldn't want some crazed MAN MAN fan to try to take it. I walk the six blocks back to my car, knowing it will be there.

I spend the ride home, singing to myself. But not singing MAN MAN. I am surprised that I still have a voice. I am surprised at the notes I am hitting. And I fall into my usual rut of daydream-driving while singing the songs I grew up on. I wish I had a band.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

1












The show is tomorrow. I am super stoked. I hope I can bring a camera into the venue. Not sure. I plan on having fun no matter what. Gonna drink coffee, which will ensure liveliness on my part. Now it's all up to MANMAN, and I have faith in MANMAN.











Friday, October 24, 2008

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

4


Its getting close guys.

By the way, I got a hair cut. Actually I got several of them cut. Check it out.









Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Monday, October 20, 2008

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Friday, October 17, 2008

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

The day approaches


and i dont know what to do with myself

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Can't Wait for MANMAN

It is now October 12th, exactly 2 weeks till the MANMAN concert. I am so excited, I can barely contain myself. Just wanted to mention it. Have a good day.