Last night, against my better judgment I set off to see the band Yeasayer play at Great Scott in Allston. I learned earlier in the day that the show had sold out, which surprised me, because I didn’t realize that Yeasayer was that big yet. And I don’t think they were the reason it sold out, actually. I think there was some other band that was headlining who are really popular. I don’t feel like looking up the band name now, and why should I since they are (presumably) the reason I didn’t get to see Yeasayer, whose latest album I have been listening to a lot while I putz around on the internet all night.
As a reward for being completely uninformed (read square), I got to stand in the wet snow pathetically asking all of the younger, better looking, ticket holding people if they had an extra. I wasn’t alone in this pursuit, and after about twenty minutes forced myself to the honest assessment that I wasn’t getting in. I tried calling a friend or two, but nobody was around. I don’t really know anybody in that part of town anymore, so I shuffled off back to my car.
The snow was coming down pretty fast, the roads weren’t the best, and I was all bummed out about my failure. I ended up stopping at a bar for a quick beer, just to have something to do. And as my beer was heading to me, my wife called me to tell me all about the roads which at this point I was very familiar with. I lied to her about being at the show, drank half my beer and headed home. Oh, and to entertain myself at the bar, since of course I didn’t have anybody to talk to, I read a few pages of a two or three week old Weekly Dig. This maybe was the highlight of my big night out.
When I got home my wife was watching some show about an insanely ugly woman whose job it is to hook up socially inept millionaire males with attractive women. There were these two dudes who only went on dates if they were double dates so that both of them could be together, and then there was some other guy in his late thirties who chose to go out on a date with some 21 year old chick. When the disproportionately aged couple were presented with the meal on their dinner date, the dude went into a meditative trance, which I guess was his version of grace. Normally I would find something like that funny, but I was in such a bad mood I felt like punching him.
On the plus side I got the proof for my book from createspace, and I only found one little grammatical mistake. Of course I didn’t read the whole thing. I read maybe thirty pages. I’ve read the thing so many times before I figure I’ve found most of the mistakes, but the bottom line is that it’ll be for sale soon, and won’t that be fun.