I really love discovering something new about something or someone that you thought you knew everything about. You know what I mean. Like you one day find out your best friend used to breed pygmy rabbits, or something, as a child, and all of a sudden she's become so much more interesting to you.
That happened to me last night, not with a person, but a place! Last night, Jerry, Jill and I went to see a band called popup (this blog will be inundated with hundreds of photos of them as I let their tour manager go off with my camera last saturday. obvs you can tell by this that I have an uncommon level of trust in and affection for these people, because my nikon is my baby.) at notsuoh, which is a Houston venue downtown. notsuoh's pretty awesome, because it's full of dark corners (for doing dark deeds?) and sometimes you can still get away with smoking in there. I don't smoke, actually, in general, but when I drink a lot, I always crave cigarettes, and it sucks to have to go outside to partake in my once-a-year vice. Also, if you play there, you get free beer all night. I don't play in a band*, but I imagine that's a pretty sweet deal.
But I thought I knew all I needed to know about notsuoh. Not so! While hanging out last night, someone discovered a secret building upstairs from the bar! We got in through a busted window and went up a steep staircase, and what greeted us was the most amazing place I've seen in a long time. There were rows and rows of shelves lined with really old shoes, a dusty out-of-tune piano and tons of spooky shadows and hidey holes. Broken furniture and old canvases scattered the floor, and you could hear the scurry of mice and rats as you walked along the groaning floors. Even better, we found really old bottles of beer, which we felt honor-bound to partake in (because rules for living state that anytime you find yourself in a dark, deserted building, you must consume whatever food or drink you find there. How else will the serial killer know that it's time for him to show up? Actually, I guess he's still not allowed to show up until some girl has sex there. Sex leads to death by serial-killer, everyone knows this. I didn't see a serial killer, in case you're wondering.). The whole place was super-spooky and awesome, and finding it was like having a shiny treasure that you can hug to yourself.
So that just goes to show me that you can find excitement and intrigue anywhere, even in people and places you thought you knew by heart. You only have to look.
* Yet. Of course I currently have about four musical projects in the works - Unexpected Bassist, The Funky Meercats, Soundcheck (where the only lyrics will be things like, "check, one. two. check. can I get a little more guitar in my monitor, please?" It's going to be GENIUS.) and of course my 32-member experiemental-rock band, Secret Baby and the Big-House Bruises, which is still recruiting members, if you'd like to sign up. I myself will be playing the fire extinguisher and wearing a funny hat.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
8 comments:
Man, you were SO CLOSE to getting murdered, though. So close!
Another thing you may not realize about Notsuoh: it's the word Houston...BACKWARDS! Did I just blow your effing MIND, man?!?
Okay, kidding, you probably knew that.
No worries, you totally would have blown my mind if I weren't dyslexic and so read it as Houston from the very start.
A creepy man with an axe could've gotten me if I'd had about five more minutes.
I call rubbish sass-kicking duties! Yes!
You have to have one arm in a sling, or it will NEVER WORK.
Also do you have cuban heels? oh wait, you do, I saw them the other day.
I misssssss you, brianna!!!! Let's make love and listen to death from above.
even crazier, they used to have shows in that shoe room! and i went to a few! of course once the fire marshal found out about it, they were shut down immediately, cos when you think about it, that room is kiiiind of a death trap (and/or all of the rocking may have been a little too much for the building structure to handle). i do miss those days, though. shows in the shoe room of notsuoh always made me feel more punk rock than i ever really was.
sarah, you are incredibly punk rock. I feel punk rock, just knowing you.
Erin, you will be impressed at the Carlos garb I will be bringing to the table... too long jeans rolled over my Cuban Heels... a red womanly shirt (I own many) and a rubbish hat. oh- and a completely useless sling that had no medical purpose.
I missss you too! Expect a phone call later tonight!
brianna, it had better come with a pack of crumpled smokes and a half-empty bottle of jamesons, or it's no deal.
yesssssss plz. we shall all be in love with one another over the phone line. like a sexless orgy or something. (well, maybe not sexless for you, but the rest of us.)
Post a Comment