I've been meaning to blog more lately, and the reason I haven't is not for lack of something to say. It's just that I've been in school!
Yes, that's right faithfuls, the ol' post-high school education. The ol' continuing ed. At night. (Voice actor who's a man and has soothing deep, slightly rough/scratchy voice) You see, we're a little different than your average morning class-taking student. We're a little older; a little wiser; and a whole lot more dedicated.
(end irritating voice--replace with Dolly Parton) Yeah! Totally!
(end Dolly) So yeah, I've had things to write about like, all day yesterday and this morning too, but now I'm having a hard time remembering. Ain't it always like that.
Here's one (not kid-related):
Yesterday, I'm walking around campus, and this guy who's wearing a bunch of metal clothes tells me I look awesome and gives me the low five/hand shake that metal guys are good at. It was awesome.
He was among this roughly 50-strong group of headband-sporting youngsters who I assume were students. The majority of them were standing on lower ground, at the base of some stairs at Red Square, in front of whatever that auditorium is that's sorta between Odegaard and Suzzallo libraries. My man and a handful of others, dressed similarly in metal-ish gear, were standing at the top of the steps. One of them was addressing the larger crowd. Something was about to take place.
My man who spoke to me was the most metal of the handful, but in a different way than I. He was wearing this sleeveless jean jacket, modded with metal studs, a new-school Megadeth t-shirt peeking out, headband tied around mop of red hair, and had the long red beard of a young man who really wanted to grow a beard as soon as he was able to grow a beard.
(I'm listening to Rust in Peace Live right now--brutal. Take No Prisoners fucking rules.)
He said something like, "You look awesome dude, totally metal."
"Thanks, man! So do you. Megadeth is my favorite band."
Commence conversation about new album coming out and general Megadeth/Mustaine talk. Other kid joins in--short mop of greasy black hair, clean cut, black headband, black sweater, greenish pants, black shoes.
Apparently the thing going on that all the students were gathered for was a zombie attack. The metal kids were zombies, the others were... uh, not. Zombies. Can't remember what ginger boy said. So the metal/black/scary clothes were supposed to represent zombie appearance. Okay. At least some ppl got to dress blatantly, almost sillily metal.
I was wearing my black leather jacket, black jeans, black shoes, hair down, black Manhattan Portage laptop bag on my back. Ready to kill. He liked how I looked. It was really nice to hear, from one metal dude to another.
I swear, metal dudes are the friendliest. We go through enough pain and suffering in our heads that to meet another one is like a breath of fresh air. No one else understands.
Okay, but, other kid. There was the other kid who joined our conversation. I ask them, "So who's a really metal bassist and drummer that wants to join my band?"
Ginger points to CleanCut. Apparently CleanCut, who's mannerisms reminded me of Paul Rudd's character from Wet Hot American Summer, 'can play bass like a motherfucker,' but is 'first and foremost a singer.' He's not into black metal as much as the thrash style. Really into Megadeth, too. Told the two dudes the name of my band. They both liked it. But they also knew I was way more metal than either of them could handle in a day.
I was gonna trade contact info with CleanCutRudd, but the person addressing the crowd was getting everyone ready to start the zombie thing. CleanCutRudd walks away without getting any of my contact info, nor did I receive any of his.
Somehow I don't think it's gonna matter.
Yes, that's right faithfuls, the ol' post-high school education. The ol' continuing ed. At night. (Voice actor who's a man and has soothing deep, slightly rough/scratchy voice) You see, we're a little different than your average morning class-taking student. We're a little older; a little wiser; and a whole lot more dedicated.
(end irritating voice--replace with Dolly Parton) Yeah! Totally!
(end Dolly) So yeah, I've had things to write about like, all day yesterday and this morning too, but now I'm having a hard time remembering. Ain't it always like that.
Here's one (not kid-related):
Yesterday, I'm walking around campus, and this guy who's wearing a bunch of metal clothes tells me I look awesome and gives me the low five/hand shake that metal guys are good at. It was awesome.
He was among this roughly 50-strong group of headband-sporting youngsters who I assume were students. The majority of them were standing on lower ground, at the base of some stairs at Red Square, in front of whatever that auditorium is that's sorta between Odegaard and Suzzallo libraries. My man and a handful of others, dressed similarly in metal-ish gear, were standing at the top of the steps. One of them was addressing the larger crowd. Something was about to take place.
My man who spoke to me was the most metal of the handful, but in a different way than I. He was wearing this sleeveless jean jacket, modded with metal studs, a new-school Megadeth t-shirt peeking out, headband tied around mop of red hair, and had the long red beard of a young man who really wanted to grow a beard as soon as he was able to grow a beard.
(I'm listening to Rust in Peace Live right now--brutal. Take No Prisoners fucking rules.)
He said something like, "You look awesome dude, totally metal."
"Thanks, man! So do you. Megadeth is my favorite band."
Commence conversation about new album coming out and general Megadeth/Mustaine talk. Other kid joins in--short mop of greasy black hair, clean cut, black headband, black sweater, greenish pants, black shoes.
Apparently the thing going on that all the students were gathered for was a zombie attack. The metal kids were zombies, the others were... uh, not. Zombies. Can't remember what ginger boy said. So the metal/black/scary clothes were supposed to represent zombie appearance. Okay. At least some ppl got to dress blatantly, almost sillily metal.
I was wearing my black leather jacket, black jeans, black shoes, hair down, black Manhattan Portage laptop bag on my back. Ready to kill. He liked how I looked. It was really nice to hear, from one metal dude to another.
I swear, metal dudes are the friendliest. We go through enough pain and suffering in our heads that to meet another one is like a breath of fresh air. No one else understands.
Okay, but, other kid. There was the other kid who joined our conversation. I ask them, "So who's a really metal bassist and drummer that wants to join my band?"
Ginger points to CleanCut. Apparently CleanCut, who's mannerisms reminded me of Paul Rudd's character from Wet Hot American Summer, 'can play bass like a motherfucker,' but is 'first and foremost a singer.' He's not into black metal as much as the thrash style. Really into Megadeth, too. Told the two dudes the name of my band. They both liked it. But they also knew I was way more metal than either of them could handle in a day.
I was gonna trade contact info with CleanCutRudd, but the person addressing the crowd was getting everyone ready to start the zombie thing. CleanCutRudd walks away without getting any of my contact info, nor did I receive any of his.
Somehow I don't think it's gonna matter.
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