Thursday, March 09, 2006

The Weather Underground, Parte the Seconde

The night is exceedingly above seasonal norms in DC. It is in the mid sixties and breezy. This is the kind of night that in college I thought was full of potential, passion, ambition and hope. In the years since, I have come to look upon these nights as bitter reminders that life is indeed passing by me. This is a night like an inbox full of old, read and reread emails.

I got home from work, decompressed and took a shower. I dressed and hopped the bus headed into downtown Silver Spring, such as it is, and then schlepped over to Los Arrieros. I had seen a flyer on Sunday for a group called Chopteeth. They seemed interesting so I told myself I would go. So I did.

Chopteeth sounds a lot like Buena Vista Social Club with a bit more jazz. My ears are largely untrained and are seriously poor judges of character when it comes to defining a sound, but regardless of this fact, I enjoyed them quite a bit. I enjoyed them so much, I almost asked a girl to dance. Instead, I got some information on the band and went home. I am in a mood only suitable for friends and enemies anyway. I was poor company.

The walk home was pleasant, in a soul draining sort of way. I was numbed by the aggressively laconic atmosphere which had the effect of a stiff Arctic wind. It absorbed everything I could hurl into the night and then consumed me. I am not even writing this.

UPDATE: Music Good, Food Bad! So, so, bad.


Adorable Girlfriend said...

Downtown Silver Spring? Is it still ghetto like I remember? I used to stay at the Hilton there and take colleagues with me now and again. They would be all, "WTF are you staying in this ghetto for?" My response was always something meaningful never really revealing the truth that I love taking white upper crust peeps to 'da hood (and this is still suburb, so it's not that bad) and watching them freak out. It's entertainment for me.

I have to admit, I have/had that same night about the warm nights that follow the cold winters.

teh l4m3 said...

That was very pretty, chuckles. Dare I say, chock-full of chucklelin?

Oh, and aren't enemies and friends pretty much synonymous in Freelance Geniusland?

Chuckles said...

Yes, yes, they are teh. Is it weird that I think of that as your first name?

AG: An associate of mine once said, 'I love how black your neighborhood gets after dark.' It is really funny some nights. I was expecting one of two things last night: a fun night of music and funky different people getting, ahem, 'down' or an ass kicking for walking into the wrong place.

As it is, I got both.

Smartypants said...

Bitter reminders. I totally get that. Especially the weather part.

Chuckles said...


Lindsey said...

Chuckles my friend. Let me just say that this is the most eloquent post ever! I really enjoyed reading took me right there with you. Walking along the sidewalk in the light of the streetlamps. Traffic passing by, the sounds and smells of people, clubs, life. Very cool.

Pinko Punko said...

Chuckwagon, what's going on with your mood? Your prize package is continuing to get built. It has not been augmented by a trip to the Asian market yet. Never fear.

It there anything I can put in it that is not something disgusting that you willbe compelled to eat, something that can cheer you up?

teh l4m3 said...

Fleshlights aren't disgusting. Send him one of those, along with some gangbang movies and a bottle of lube.

Chuckles said...

Yup, that's a big negatory on that porn 10-4, teh.

Linny: Thanks. I just call them as I see them.

PP: I could do with a nice vietnamese chicken sandwich. But those don't travel well. The closest food item of a similar nature is the 'Negril Cafe.' After my recent gastronomic misadventures, I am not exactly willing to try new restaurants. But I will anyway because I am the kind of man that ignores instinct and listens to his gut. I'll still eat anything that isn't nasty enough to be used on Fear Factor. Although I am pretty sure tha I have eaten stuff that should be on that show.

Man, I crack myself up.