Much needed rest past noon, events from last night topple back in on to brain. On the trek home, run into two friends. It is late night dinner at the restaurant and we’re discussing Buddhism or something and the strangeness that is life-like in Houston, that is music Houston—I’ve not been in too many pits here, do you know? The bands here, mostly mellow, folk, folk/punk, whatever, I’m mostly tired of. Every now and then, to my pleasant surprise, I’m knocked back on my ass by some more greatness toppling back.
First band poppy punk, very tight, very much in control. Next: an emcee comes on, produces a wall of speakers as the backdrop; this is Blackie.
Third band? Who is this? The band supposedly getting ready to go on tour with Nine Inch Nails, none other than? Unsure. But they fucking rock it. This is the first time I’ve ever seen kids stage dive at Notsuoh. Inspiring. I jump off a chair. I’m spinning around. I keep my glasses on. This lady is wringing my left sleeve, not letting go, while with my right hand I’m catching the glasses that have fallen off my face. Right arm, right hand, trying to reapply them. But she won’t let go. She will not. Left arm, twisting out like a ninja. Twisting, twisting some more. And I’m out. And I am proud of her, Houston’s new representative.
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