Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: punk lower east side stza crack star fucking hipsters s
Why do I torture myself? a scathing review of last night’s Metropolis Apocalypse punk show
It started off quietly enough. I arrived in Williamsburg early and decided to walk around the area to find a suitable place to eat. I invited Seth and Hilda to come with me.
My therapist was against me going to this show. Knowing my penchant for certain types of men, she tried to reason with about the folly of my ways but headstrong and stupid as I am, I went anyway.
Of course Hilda and Seth was late and when Seth did call, he said that Cashman told him that Hammerbrain was already on the stage. Freaking out, I rushed over to Supreme Trading. On my way over there, I passed a crowd of people at a church at North Seventh and I knew it was an AA meeting. I asked a young woman and yes, indeed it was a meeting and that it would be starting in 15 minutes. I felt calmer after than. I felt that if I got freaked out for some reason, I can always run over to catch what’s left of the meeting.
I get to Supreme Trading and of course, Hammerbrain was NOT on. I hung out to see what old timers were about. Some nasty crusty punk kids managed to get in with their dogs. Damn, they smelled, it was really gross.
Hammerbrain was an old school band from the eighties. I was friends with Al and reasonably friendly with Ned. For some reason, I never was friendly to Ned’s younger brother but I must say that he aged fucking nice and so did Ned. They are both fucking hot! Some of the rest of us didn’t fare so good. We had the bloated calf appearance that is only gained by years of alcohol abuse. All I have to say in my defense is that I’m fucking 48 and still going strong. Thats more than what I expected out of my life.
Hammerbrain was great, it was good to sing the old songs or at least hear them. It made me feel young again. What did NOT make me feel young was the goddamn crusty punks who made a goddamn mosh pit. Of Course they should have made a pit, it’s a fucking punk show. Yet all of us old timers with weary bones were a bit disgruntled but tried not to show it.
It was interesting to note the changing of the bands and their audiences. The bands were newer and newer as time went on and their followings were also younger so by the the time the main attraction came on, the crowd was properly suited for the rowdy hijinks that ensued.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself here.
After Hammerbrain played, the lovely Hilda showed up and we went around to see what old timers were there. Seth introduced me to Bill Cashman and I was my usual obnoxious self asking him about the bed bugs at C-Squat and saying other snippy things. Mr. Cashman was not at all entertained by my joking and dissed me immediately to drool over Hilda. I was offended. hmmmph and all of that I got over it though and Seth, Hilda and I saundered off to dinner at Oasis, a fine Middle Eastern restaurant.
Back at Supreme Trading, I wandered off from Seth and Hilda and found John Penley schmoozing a hot Brazilian young woman. Penley is the man, that’s all that I can say.
I looked into the art space and I saw Stza hanging out talking with some hot chick. I whipped my dvd out and went in to make my acquaintance and give him the dvd. He was actually really nice. I mean, I read all this shit about him and local people said some particularly unkind remarks about him but I found him quite charming. We chit chatted about personal hygiene and then I went back to find Hilda and Seth.
Back in the stage area, I found empty seats on the aluminium bleachers. I made sure that I got to the top section because I wanted no part of anybody’s stinky, sweaty body hurling into me because they were “dancing”. I happily checked out the crowd. There were absolutely no real outstanding hoties there. At least not guys. There were some doable sex minxes in the mix. I love punk rock sluts. Especially the healthy ones with hardly any clothes on. The really skinny ones just remind me of coked out skanks.
Finally, the moment everybody was waiting for….STAR FUCKING HIPSTERS!
At least thats what everybody though but due to equipment malfunctions on Sturg’s amp, there was a long, long delay.
and then they played….and it was good.
However, Sturg was ummm, fucked up!!! What the hell happened in two fucking hours? He was totally fine when I left him.
Still, He was awesome, the band was awesome. Oh my gawd, the bassist and the other guitarist. They absolutely ruled!!! I was rocked.!!!
I really could’ve cried at one point, it was so good and so emotionally charged and everybody was into it.
and though it all, you just felt so alive and the music torched through and you felt….understood because the music said it all for you.
and you were safe, you could do anything because there was always somebody there to carry you
However, this is reality and this is alcohol we’re talking about and we can’t leave out the truth.
I have no idea what went through Jimi Hendrix’s mind when he set his guitar on fire at Monterey Music Festival. I have no idea why Pete Townshend smashed his guitar back in the day. All I know is that when Sturg swung that guitar like a real axe and I felt that swoosh of air above my head which might have led to real trouble for me if I was taller, I knew things were gettng out of hand.
Just as quickly as it started, it ended and the band played on until the end.
It was an amazing night. I just hope we don’t blow our wad and die in a blaze of glory because there’s a lot to be said for growing old and still kicking ass.
At the very end, they turned the lights on to stop the music but the band played on until the management got testy and finally over. I ran to piss and the bathrooms were scandalous. What did I expect? Ha!
I went back into the stage area to put my warm things on and I look on the ground and saw rigs everywhere. That really freaked me out. I almost picked one up but my better judgment took over. It kind of brought everything in full circle for me. Twenty years ago today, I was a junkie living that supposed punk rock dream in a junkie squat on the Lower East Side and it was all about the music and getting high. Just like Arthur Rimbaud, I had to let go of those angst ridden days and move on. Thinking about it like that puts it all in perspective for me. I am so glad that I can feel music like I always did. I’m also glad that I find so much more out of life than living in a drugged out day dream.
Barbara R. Lee
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: AA, alcohol, alcoholism, cocaine, drinking, drugging, recovery, relapse, sobriety
Last year around this time, I was at the onset of one of my biggest drinking binges ever. All local stores that had the strong Polish beer that I swilled was visited by me daily. I had to have my refrigerator full. On the weekends, I had beer for breakfast. It used to be that I had a rule that I drink no alcohol before Noon. That was broken. I believe I drank more than when I was swilling with Michael McGreal. Or even when I was living at Umbrella House and you know I drank a lot then. Towards the end of November, I rediscovered Barcardi 151. I needed it. Nothing else really fucked me up anymore. Despite the fact that I was on sleeping pills and anti-depressants, I drank constantly. It wasn’t a success unless I passed out from the booze. At the end of December, 2007, I went to Jael’s pre-New Year’s Eve party. I got there drunk and drank more. I brought my bottle of 151 to keep the party going. I ended up snorting cocaine that night and I haven’t had that in years. It was weird because when the girl passed me the mirror, the first thought was “I might get a heart attack if I snort this”. That thought did not stop me from snorting the coke. It was a good thing that they didn’t know where to cop anymore because I would’ve blown all the cash in my account for some more blow. I went home in the morning and decided enough was enough. A look at my reflection in a mirror at the party scared the shit out of me.
What the fuck??!!!
Days later, I go to the liquor store and buy a bottle of champagne. At the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve, I popped open my bottle of bubbly, drank half the bottle that night and poured the rest down the drain. I haven’t had a drink since.
I started going back to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. I didn’t want to but I knew I couldn’t stay sober on my own. I started going to a lot of meetings. Things got a lot better for me. I was actually happy, less stressed and I began to do things. I occasionally went to the gym which was more than never. I began to take guitar lessons and I started seeing a chiropractor for my ailments. Things were working out. As the months progressed, I got up early to do my stretches, I did my prayers every morning. I was actually feeling so good.
Summer is usually a hateful time of year for me despite the sun and warmth. This Summer was different. I did a lot of things with people and I had the best time.
So, I don’t know what happened. Lately, I’ve been moody and desolate. My apartment is gathering clutter again and I feel as if I don’t have the strength to deal with it. I stopped working out, at home and at the gym. I make excuses for it. I stopped going to AA meetings regularly. I’m lucky if I hit two in one week lately.
I just read the book, DRY by Augusten Burroughs and I’m realizing that I”m heading for a relapse if I keep up with my current lifestyle. Already my body aches are back as a result of no exercise. I have nine months. I want to stay sober. I don’t want the chaos that was my life for many years.
I went to two AA meetings tonight. It was a bit overwhelming but I needed to do it. I shared about what is going on in my life and I feel better now. I know I have to start going to meetings regularly again. I have to make sobriety a priority in my life, not going straight home to play on the internet. I need to take care of myself. It is a lot of work but in the long run, it makes my life so much happier.
I guess that means no more booty calls, Sorry Jay and Scotty. but it is what it is and I promised myself no more hook ups. I want a man in my life, not a dick on call. Right now, I just need to take care of myself, fuck the romance and sex shit for awhile.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: drugs, food stamps, lower east side, welfare
The late eighties, crack in the street, toothless hookers giving out the best blow jobs, burnt out buildings and the smell of shit in the air. New York Fucking City!!!! And if you were poor, The Lower East Side was the place to be, Alphabet City. Hanging out in Tompkins Square Park all night. Taking your sweetie for a stroll along the East River at East River Park. Shooting up with your friends in some squalid abandoned building. Yeah, life was good. It was made even better by the grace of the United States Government. Food Stamps.
On the first of the month and in the middle of the month, it was like Christmas. As soon as you got your food stamps, it was time to party. Every bodega accepted food stamps for candles, toilet tissue, pet food, beer and ummm, food. Ohh hell yeah and the Chinese places took them too. You could save the cash for drugs and while you’re waiting for your favorite dope spot to open, you could get some fried chicken with pork fried rice and a forty ounce of Olde English and the party could begin. If you were willing to leave the neighborhood, you could traipse uptown to the Upper East Side and buy some high class pate and all that gourmet shit at D’agostino’s and Gristede’s because they couldn’t turn down your food stamps. It was awesome to get a whole array of fancy food and whip out the food stamps. The rich bitches standing behind you would be scandalized as hell and you would give them a wink, pat the grocery bag and say..bon Appetit!
Later, in the park, after you copped your drugs and chilling with your friends, you could lay out your fine spread and your homies would exclaim “Damn, you got that with food stamps??” Ohh hell the fuck yeah!!!! Lets be real, the government never gave out enough food stamps for a normal needy family that played by the system. I don’t know how normal needy people did it. I mean, sure, you could buy loads of rice and beans in bulk but what about milk and veggies for the kids and yourself? The only people who could live on food stamps were druggie welfare cheats. Druggies don’t need to eat all that much, so as long they could cop a bag of dope, who gave a fuck about eating? Thats why druggies are so nice and skinny. I wish I was a druggie. I’d like to be skinny…sigh.
I hear that now they have a card for food stamps. That must suck.
