The Cool Will Not Be Televised

This, is a picture of my brother:









*Sometimes, I refer to myself as 'world.'
There is just something so utterly uncool about being a fan. About fanatically admiring someone. About devoting so long in considering someone so much better than ourselves, especially someone we know well. I hate that, being the vulnerable one, not having the upper hand, blowing things out of proportion. So I will try to hold it together for this entry.

Last night, Brother got me and friend into a show for free. Originally, the gig was sold out, but he knew the opening band (and dictated that I go see them) and suddenly I was on a VIP list. Me "plus one." That's right, I had a "plus one" and her name was Fi. This meant the blue wristband instead of either yellow or white or those sorry folks that just had tickets. That's the same color wrist bands the band wore. Also meant walking backstage to talk to the band after they performed. And finding the earpiece for the drummer because he dropped it backstage and I had nimble fingers. For the time being, I need everyone to ignore the fact that the only backstage I went to was literally next to the stage and not some posh seating area with cocktails and more importantly, cocktail sausages. Whatever, there was a gate and I waved my wrist and went through with ease. And we didn't see anyone else do it, except for people actually working for the band. We will also pretend that certain band members were not super friendly because they were super sauced. And lastly, I need your help in pretending that picking up someone else's ear piece isn't gross at all. I hadn't actually considered it as gross until Vita-L, very unimpressed with my story, looked at me and said "Ew, ear piece?" But whatever, she's just jealous. And my rock and roll lifestyle has no room for jealous people.

Discussing how half the venue seemed to have bracelets...

Dave: Do you think the yellow bracelets were for people on the Dresden Dolls' VIP list? And the blue was for your band? That's why they wore the blue, too?

Fi: It can't be, can it? Other VIPs?

Moi: No. It can't. We'd like to keep thinking that we're just better than other people.

The actual venue where this all went down was in a neighborhood far, far away. I have the blisters to show for it. The place was called "The Exchange" and on my map, about a block away from the street address, there were the words "The Exchange" in big bold letters. That led us to believe that there would be a clearly labeled, big concert hall called The Exchange in that viscinity. But we were wrong. We looked around and saw a big E down an alley and blindly followed it. Too bad it was for the club Establishment. We have no idea what the map meant by "The Exchange." Many more narrow turns and un-posh map consultations later, we finally came upon a door of a quiet street, where a flock of kids were waiting outside, with one notable body-painted bright green girl in the crowd, with a short neon pink dress, handing out candies. "Oh God, don't let this be The Exchange," Fi said. But The Exchange it was. The inside was actually quite big, but the outside was small and insignificant. Very much like the young King David. And oh, they offer weekly Pilates classes there.
The actual shows, which I have no photographic evidence of, were really sweet. The burlesque dancers during intermission gave us a perfect excuse for a bathroom break. And the leg lamp that turned out to be a pair of actual legs attached to an actual human torso standing on a table, well, that was an interesting discovery. What was not sweet was the grandmother (at least late 50's, if not 60's) in tight ripped leather pants and an open back tank top, there with her daughter/grand daughter. She wasn't even the faded-glory, once-beautiful aging old lady holding onto her former skanky ways type, but short, stumpy and very grandmother looking. She gave me nightmares and "my days be turning into daymares..."

Afterwards, Fi and I were giddy. We hadn't expected to enjoy the music so much. Nor for the folks to be so nice. As a result, many a praises and words of thanks were showered upon Brother as we walked and debriefed. May have made blasphemous comments about his greatness, though upon closer inspection, the Brother vs. Brother greatness analysis should actually be as follows:














That's Jesus pulling ahead with a slight though steady lead over Earthly Brother. But other than Jesus, he really is the greatest brother I've had so far.