My SGNYC BBQ 2005 Experience
by boundcreature
My day (July 3, 2005) starts at 10:15 pm, when I am woken up by a phone call from palo. Five hours later, it is the fourth of July and I am flying down the highway in ThePants Malibu, windows down, absolutely screaming the choruses to Alice Coopers Raise Your Fist and Yell!
Google and Mapquest seem to think the drive to my girls house in New Jersey is going to take me 5.5 hours; I do it in 4.25. In your face Internet! I prove you wrong once again! Some parts of New Jersey are almost pretty under the right conditions, but, that just might have been the joy I feel in the proximity of palo clouding my normally lucid judgment. Shes wearing a black and white striped bikini, I can see it clearly through her ribbed, white tank top. It is not the first time (nor is it the last) that I consider taking off her clothes and kissing her as if we werent standing in the parking lot of a gas station on a Monday morning.
Later, I meet the parents. I meet the dogs. The parents and one dog (Ella) seem to like me, the second dog (Renee) has decided to aggressively stake her territory. The girl and I lay around, its early in the day, we watch an episode of The Twilight Zone with Dick York (TVs Darren Stevens); it occurs to me that if there had been no New York film scene in the 1970s and no actors like Robert Deniro, Al Pacino, Meryl Streep and Harvey Keitel or directors like Martin Scorcese and Francis Ford Coppola, then all movies and television today would still be horribly over-acted, dramatic pieces of fakery with no hint at the possibility of expression of the nature of the human condition that we take for granted today. But still, despite this, The Twilight Zone is pretty rad.
By 10:30 am, I have been awake for 12 hours and we leave palos town to meet up with Minimalism909 and Fenchurch to catch a ride into Brooklyn for the BBQ. A brief diversion about Fenchurch (if you know her, you may skip this, as you are already aware of such things):
Fenchurch possesses an outlook on reality that is both refreshing and humorous; she never fails to pull the uncommon out of the thoroughly mundane, voicing ideas and scenarios that would never cross my mind, in such a way that they are the only way they could be imagined. She is similar, in some small way, to Neil Gaimans character Delirium; emitting humorous non sequiturs in the same manner in which the rest of us breathe. Plus, she is totally sweet.
We load a pair of turntables into a station wagon with Virginia plates and under Minimalism909s guidance, Fenchurch carts us into Brooklyn, to the rooftop that will be our home for the next 11 hours. I meet BK_Unknown and WaxAngel; in classic SG member fashion, they are friendly as fuck and thoroughly inviting. We are on the roof of a four-story building, the sun is shining like a motherfucker, it is hot and there is limited shade. Like lethargic lizards, palo and I sit in chairs off to the side, gradually touching each other and making paths of small kisses along each others arms and neck. For the next 20 or so hours, she is almost always within touching distance. A little while later, The Sex Slaves arrive and begin to haul their gear onto the roof. And now, a brief diversion regarding The Sex Slaves and my interest in them:
I first saw this band playing a bar near MassART last summer. I went to the show, because it was a punk show and Im a punk, I had no idea who any of the bands were. I liked them immediately, they came on strong, playing a relentless banal song called We Are The Sex Slaves which, lyrically, is about being The Sex Slaves (believe it or not). From there, they hurdled into a series of songs about fucking and played one of the finest Misfits covers Ive ever heard (Where Eagles Dare). Now, playing a good Misfits cover is hard to do, as every fucking punk band on the planet tries it at one time or another, but these guys fucking OWN it. They play loud, they play fast and they play with a disregard for their own safety or that of the audience. On top of that, they are fucking hot. In an era where pussy emo boys play in shitty bands, its refreshing to see a bunch of good-looking guys sing about fucking and then walk away from the club with all of the girls in attendance afterwards. I mean, if you are gonna sing a song with a chorus of I want to fuck you all night long there had better goddamn well be a fucking LINE of good-looking girls waiting for you.
They are the perfect cross between punk and cock rock. I saw them two weeks later at Manray and that was the last Id heard of them for about a year. Until, on a freak chance, I went to resign up on their mailing list (I just changed one of my email addresses) and saw that they were playing a super secret SG bash in Brooklyn. Of course, knowing my girlfriends weakness for musicians and the possibility of her attending this event, I felt it was in my best interests to attend and keep her out of trouble
.
Mostly though, I just wanted to see the band again, Im up to my ears in stress trying to make my next career move happen and more than anything else, I wanted to get out of bedroom for a bit, see a great fucking band, kiss a beautiful girl and party on a roof with a bunch of cool people. So, I did.
But, we were speaking of being on a bloody hot roof, werent we? At about this point in our story, the first of a wonderful run of DJs hit the turntables. There had to be at least seven or eighth different DJs taking turns kicking out many different varieties and mixing tracks together with an excellent sense of craft. WaxAngel hit a ton of great songs, most notably People Who Died by the Jim Carroll Band.. another DJ, who I did not meet, played Wise Up Suckers! by the fucking Poppies!
Of particular and noteworthy surprise, was Minimalism909 who spun with a great deal of precision and passion. Of course, I didnt expect him to suck, I just didnt realize he would be that good and that into it. I love to watch people doing things that they obviously love doing.
The Sex Slaves started there set a little later, playing a majority of tunes written after their recent line-up change. In lieu of an extended review, I shall just post a picture brazenly stolen from Barbarellas journal of bass player Del Cheetah playing Where Eagles Dare while flying a kite tied to his guitar.
The lovely, attractive and photographically-talented Barbarella has a number of great pictures of the band here.
If you find this band intriguing, I would recommend you go here and check out their songs No More Reasons and "Going Out Tonight." The BBQ was the kick-off of their tour, so if they come through your town, you should check them out.
Immediately following the band was a selection of dancehall reggae that was just fucking awesome. If I wasnt so goddamn tired, I wouldve danced straight through the set. And then the sun set, people danced, music played, fireworks exploded while Springsteen's "Born in the USA" enveloped the night and people smiled and all of the while, I sat down, leaned up against the wall of the roof, tired as hell, holding onto my girl and kissing her neck and maybe, possibly, sorta copping a feel underneath her hoodie (but dont tell her I wrote this).
By the time we packed-up the turntables and called it a night, I had already been up for 27 hours. I fell asleep almost immediately in the back of the station wagon, waking up sporadically to horrifying statements like:
This bridge is too narrow for two lanes!
and
I know it says dont go there, but this is Brooklyn, just go there anyway!
Frightful, horrifying bout of exhausting sleep. Luckily, I didnt have to drive from Minimalism909s to palos. A long time ago, when I first met Minimalism909 he told me that hed put me up if I was ever in the area; true to his word, he put the both of us up in his guest room, saving me a night of sleeping by myself on the couch in palos living room, restless as hell from knowing Im so close to my girl, yet all alone. Derceto dropped-off Trevor too late for our horrifying realization that wearing fishnets on ones arms for a full day in the sun results in a particularly amusing sunburned waffle pattern.
But, the amusement passed and after almost 16 hours, I was alone with my girl for the very first time and I fell asleep holding her and woke up, bleary-eyed and gross-feeling, to her beautiful body, lying on her side, the blanket fallen to just below the black-and-white striped bikini bottoms on her cute, round bum. And, then she woke up and caught me looking...
And, then it was time to wind down, more Twilight Zone at palos house, followed by a much-needed nap in the living room with her dogs. I woke up about an hour later, absolutely amazed that my glass of ice water, which I got about a half-hour before I fell asleep, was still cold. To which palo replied that she had put a few ice cubes into it while I was asleep. I think that, right there explains why my attraction for this girl goes beyond the pretty smell and pale skin, she's sweet and caring and tender and whether or not she will ever admit it, she has heart.
I seemed to be getting along quite well with the aggressive dog, if you'll remember, Renee at first, was very unhappy with my presence, but had suddenly decided that she liked me quite a bit (before later deciding to want to bit me again later). After my nap, I got a nice home-cooked meal from her mum and then we went out for ice cream (buttered almond oh my god is this the greatest flavor or what?!). And, before I knew it, I was kissing her through the car window, pulling out of Jersey.
Four and half hours later, it was 2:15 am on July 6 and I was flying down the highway, windows down, absolutely screaming the chorus to Iron Maidens Bring Your Daughter, to the Slaughter.
I needed that kinda break more than anybody could realize and being able to have a good weekend with palo after the last couple of getting-to-know-each-other-were-stubborn-as-hell-and-argumentative weekends made me feel good inside. Thank you so fucking much to the following people for taking care of me, feeding me, helping me out and looking out for me: ThePants for the car and CDs, palo for the gas money and food, Minimalism909 for the food and lodging and navigation, fenchurch for the transportation, BK_Unknown for the hospitality, you folks always have a place to sleep and eat in Boston.
by boundcreature
My day (July 3, 2005) starts at 10:15 pm, when I am woken up by a phone call from palo. Five hours later, it is the fourth of July and I am flying down the highway in ThePants Malibu, windows down, absolutely screaming the choruses to Alice Coopers Raise Your Fist and Yell!
Google and Mapquest seem to think the drive to my girls house in New Jersey is going to take me 5.5 hours; I do it in 4.25. In your face Internet! I prove you wrong once again! Some parts of New Jersey are almost pretty under the right conditions, but, that just might have been the joy I feel in the proximity of palo clouding my normally lucid judgment. Shes wearing a black and white striped bikini, I can see it clearly through her ribbed, white tank top. It is not the first time (nor is it the last) that I consider taking off her clothes and kissing her as if we werent standing in the parking lot of a gas station on a Monday morning.
Later, I meet the parents. I meet the dogs. The parents and one dog (Ella) seem to like me, the second dog (Renee) has decided to aggressively stake her territory. The girl and I lay around, its early in the day, we watch an episode of The Twilight Zone with Dick York (TVs Darren Stevens); it occurs to me that if there had been no New York film scene in the 1970s and no actors like Robert Deniro, Al Pacino, Meryl Streep and Harvey Keitel or directors like Martin Scorcese and Francis Ford Coppola, then all movies and television today would still be horribly over-acted, dramatic pieces of fakery with no hint at the possibility of expression of the nature of the human condition that we take for granted today. But still, despite this, The Twilight Zone is pretty rad.
By 10:30 am, I have been awake for 12 hours and we leave palos town to meet up with Minimalism909 and Fenchurch to catch a ride into Brooklyn for the BBQ. A brief diversion about Fenchurch (if you know her, you may skip this, as you are already aware of such things):
Fenchurch possesses an outlook on reality that is both refreshing and humorous; she never fails to pull the uncommon out of the thoroughly mundane, voicing ideas and scenarios that would never cross my mind, in such a way that they are the only way they could be imagined. She is similar, in some small way, to Neil Gaimans character Delirium; emitting humorous non sequiturs in the same manner in which the rest of us breathe. Plus, she is totally sweet.
We load a pair of turntables into a station wagon with Virginia plates and under Minimalism909s guidance, Fenchurch carts us into Brooklyn, to the rooftop that will be our home for the next 11 hours. I meet BK_Unknown and WaxAngel; in classic SG member fashion, they are friendly as fuck and thoroughly inviting. We are on the roof of a four-story building, the sun is shining like a motherfucker, it is hot and there is limited shade. Like lethargic lizards, palo and I sit in chairs off to the side, gradually touching each other and making paths of small kisses along each others arms and neck. For the next 20 or so hours, she is almost always within touching distance. A little while later, The Sex Slaves arrive and begin to haul their gear onto the roof. And now, a brief diversion regarding The Sex Slaves and my interest in them:
I first saw this band playing a bar near MassART last summer. I went to the show, because it was a punk show and Im a punk, I had no idea who any of the bands were. I liked them immediately, they came on strong, playing a relentless banal song called We Are The Sex Slaves which, lyrically, is about being The Sex Slaves (believe it or not). From there, they hurdled into a series of songs about fucking and played one of the finest Misfits covers Ive ever heard (Where Eagles Dare). Now, playing a good Misfits cover is hard to do, as every fucking punk band on the planet tries it at one time or another, but these guys fucking OWN it. They play loud, they play fast and they play with a disregard for their own safety or that of the audience. On top of that, they are fucking hot. In an era where pussy emo boys play in shitty bands, its refreshing to see a bunch of good-looking guys sing about fucking and then walk away from the club with all of the girls in attendance afterwards. I mean, if you are gonna sing a song with a chorus of I want to fuck you all night long there had better goddamn well be a fucking LINE of good-looking girls waiting for you.
They are the perfect cross between punk and cock rock. I saw them two weeks later at Manray and that was the last Id heard of them for about a year. Until, on a freak chance, I went to resign up on their mailing list (I just changed one of my email addresses) and saw that they were playing a super secret SG bash in Brooklyn. Of course, knowing my girlfriends weakness for musicians and the possibility of her attending this event, I felt it was in my best interests to attend and keep her out of trouble
.
Mostly though, I just wanted to see the band again, Im up to my ears in stress trying to make my next career move happen and more than anything else, I wanted to get out of bedroom for a bit, see a great fucking band, kiss a beautiful girl and party on a roof with a bunch of cool people. So, I did.
But, we were speaking of being on a bloody hot roof, werent we? At about this point in our story, the first of a wonderful run of DJs hit the turntables. There had to be at least seven or eighth different DJs taking turns kicking out many different varieties and mixing tracks together with an excellent sense of craft. WaxAngel hit a ton of great songs, most notably People Who Died by the Jim Carroll Band.. another DJ, who I did not meet, played Wise Up Suckers! by the fucking Poppies!
Of particular and noteworthy surprise, was Minimalism909 who spun with a great deal of precision and passion. Of course, I didnt expect him to suck, I just didnt realize he would be that good and that into it. I love to watch people doing things that they obviously love doing.
The Sex Slaves started there set a little later, playing a majority of tunes written after their recent line-up change. In lieu of an extended review, I shall just post a picture brazenly stolen from Barbarellas journal of bass player Del Cheetah playing Where Eagles Dare while flying a kite tied to his guitar.
The lovely, attractive and photographically-talented Barbarella has a number of great pictures of the band here.
If you find this band intriguing, I would recommend you go here and check out their songs No More Reasons and "Going Out Tonight." The BBQ was the kick-off of their tour, so if they come through your town, you should check them out.
Immediately following the band was a selection of dancehall reggae that was just fucking awesome. If I wasnt so goddamn tired, I wouldve danced straight through the set. And then the sun set, people danced, music played, fireworks exploded while Springsteen's "Born in the USA" enveloped the night and people smiled and all of the while, I sat down, leaned up against the wall of the roof, tired as hell, holding onto my girl and kissing her neck and maybe, possibly, sorta copping a feel underneath her hoodie (but dont tell her I wrote this).
By the time we packed-up the turntables and called it a night, I had already been up for 27 hours. I fell asleep almost immediately in the back of the station wagon, waking up sporadically to horrifying statements like:
This bridge is too narrow for two lanes!
and
I know it says dont go there, but this is Brooklyn, just go there anyway!
Frightful, horrifying bout of exhausting sleep. Luckily, I didnt have to drive from Minimalism909s to palos. A long time ago, when I first met Minimalism909 he told me that hed put me up if I was ever in the area; true to his word, he put the both of us up in his guest room, saving me a night of sleeping by myself on the couch in palos living room, restless as hell from knowing Im so close to my girl, yet all alone. Derceto dropped-off Trevor too late for our horrifying realization that wearing fishnets on ones arms for a full day in the sun results in a particularly amusing sunburned waffle pattern.
But, the amusement passed and after almost 16 hours, I was alone with my girl for the very first time and I fell asleep holding her and woke up, bleary-eyed and gross-feeling, to her beautiful body, lying on her side, the blanket fallen to just below the black-and-white striped bikini bottoms on her cute, round bum. And, then she woke up and caught me looking...
And, then it was time to wind down, more Twilight Zone at palos house, followed by a much-needed nap in the living room with her dogs. I woke up about an hour later, absolutely amazed that my glass of ice water, which I got about a half-hour before I fell asleep, was still cold. To which palo replied that she had put a few ice cubes into it while I was asleep. I think that, right there explains why my attraction for this girl goes beyond the pretty smell and pale skin, she's sweet and caring and tender and whether or not she will ever admit it, she has heart.
I seemed to be getting along quite well with the aggressive dog, if you'll remember, Renee at first, was very unhappy with my presence, but had suddenly decided that she liked me quite a bit (before later deciding to want to bit me again later). After my nap, I got a nice home-cooked meal from her mum and then we went out for ice cream (buttered almond oh my god is this the greatest flavor or what?!). And, before I knew it, I was kissing her through the car window, pulling out of Jersey.
Four and half hours later, it was 2:15 am on July 6 and I was flying down the highway, windows down, absolutely screaming the chorus to Iron Maidens Bring Your Daughter, to the Slaughter.
I needed that kinda break more than anybody could realize and being able to have a good weekend with palo after the last couple of getting-to-know-each-other-were-stubborn-as-hell-and-argumentative weekends made me feel good inside. Thank you so fucking much to the following people for taking care of me, feeding me, helping me out and looking out for me: ThePants for the car and CDs, palo for the gas money and food, Minimalism909 for the food and lodging and navigation, fenchurch for the transportation, BK_Unknown for the hospitality, you folks always have a place to sleep and eat in Boston.
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
Your journal is always a good read. Sounds like quite the trip you had.
The Sex Slaves rock. From what I have heard anyways.. you gave me their url once upon a time. I still would like to check out more of their stuff.