Last night, I attended a show with old college buddy, Kirby, whose mind I longed to pick about music PR. Little picking happened as loud sounds swelled, awkward ‘bobbing’ occured, and warm beer was consumed. Bekah went to a ‘show’ like a show-goer, like something from 10th grade. It took me back to dark band high school places where Tommie Madel once shoved me against a wall for breaking his ‘heart.’ I think.

The show was at this place called Glasslands by the Williamsburg Bridge, one of those ‘anything goes’ type band/artist venue things where the bathrooms don’t lock, and painting on the walls is encouraged.

This show including the likes of Autopassion, a Winston-Salem, NC Based band, which is 3/5’s compiled of boys I went to high school with: Tim Poovey, Justin Swain? maybe? , Jon Ericson? I think? They are skinner, bearded versions of their once selves. I am a skinner, taller version of my once self with way less brown cordouroy and piercings. The boys like this:

They are pretty much cute as heck.

I was really impressed. Rarely do I say this, but they ‘rocked.’ They truly did. I even ‘rocked’ a bit with them. Their singer has serious skills, and as I gain more and more knowledge about the music industry, and music in general, I am starting to form these things called ‘opinions.’

And come to think of it – that was the second night in a row I pursued the viewing of a musical act. Monday night, I went to Pete’s Candy Store with ms. Marilyn Glinka/Lady Business. She looks like this:

and is cute as heck, as well. We saw a two-lady act, cutely dubbed afternoon. They harmonized, sang cute songs about cigarettes and summer and heart break, and played the guitar and accordian. I was horrendously jealous. They were adorable, a lot.

They, too, as with lots of music, and the sound of Elizabeth talking to her mother on the phone, and the sound of Rachel Ray awkwardly interviewing Harry Potter about his sexuality, as with the song ‘No Diggity,’ as with Baptist Hymns, as with Baby Kitty’s incessant meow mouth – are better than silence.