Friday’s show was definitely up in the epic levels of Shows I Have Played. The bar owner and two doctors (or at least two guys in scrubs) were plastered and discussing being 40 when we got there to load in, somewhere around 7.
Fuzzwood played the open, complete with a few Nirvana covers. Welcome Strangers was next, and then 11 Years at Harvard. And I have to say, two sets in a row is not something I want to do again anytime soon. I drank, literally, an entire pitcher of ice water. My shirt was more sweat than cotton, and wasn’t even dry by Saturday afternoon. It felt awesome, though, and the crowd was fantastic. Drunk and silly, but fantastic. Some poor guy tried to pick up my girlfriend (it happens; she’s gorgeous and interesting and way out of my league, but don’t tell her that) and really didn’t take either of our hints.
My two critiques on Thursday were also good. Well, good for balancing my stress with some sense of accomplishment, but beyond that… neither class is painting, so I’m more apathetic about the whole thing.
Speaking of, I think not having time to paint wears at the soul a bit. I wouldn’t say that’s getting me down all on its own, but it certainly doesn’t help. I still have to fight to get up and function most of the week, and I wonder what will happen when the day comes that I don’t feel like fighting anymore.
This week looks like a bunch of art I don’t *really* want to deal with, but a trip to Jungle Jim’s on Saturday. Food and scary animatronics!
Hopefully sometime soon I will opine about the kids’ dislike of Nirvana (and consequently ’90s culture in general) and formulate some sort of art post*, as there are drafts sitting around to be refined.
*Assuming I get the time and motivation to revamp my photobucket collection.