Last night was crazy... second row, dead center in front of Jesse's mic. I could barely breathe, smashed closer to the strangers around me than I would dream of being to anyone I actually know in any other circumstance. Pictures? Hah. As if I could actually move. All the crowd-surgers managed to come directly over me... no matter that my head got kicked by countless feet, or that the joke of security could barely life anyone out of the crowd.
The fun part is standing in line beforehand, complaining that the LA sun is beating down, about how congested traffic was on the 101 or how the fans were way better at the Troubadour show that you practically sold your soul to attend. Seeing the same faces you saw three months earlier in the summer sun, sweating away their Saturday to see the man whose lyrics managed to make your worst days bearable.
Sneering at the Jeffree Star fans who've probably only heard a grand total of the two singles KROQ's been spinning in the past few months. Don't talk to me about this band if you don't know who the fuck Jesse Lacey is. Don't you dare try to push me out of my spot in the front if you showed up 1/2 hour before the opening band came on stage. Don't call me a bitch for trying to get back to my spot after a quick exit when you only came because you didn't want to be home on a Saturday night (all your door's locked up tight). Do you even know what I'm talking about? Better yet, if you asked what album "Oh, Comely" was on, do me and everyone else a favor and leave now. you're an embarrassment.
Maybe this is sounding too harsh. If so, I'll blame it on having too many bruises this morning, or on putting p with one too many emo kid who doesn't know who Sunny Day Real Estate is. Frankly, I'm not surprised Brand New doesn't do encores anymore... that Jesse barely spoke to the crowd and looked severely depressed for the show's duration. Los Angeles, you were a complete embarrassment last night. Stop singing the words so fast that Jesse is but a sad echo. San Diego, please redeem the little faith I have left.
And to the kid in plaid (real descriptive, I know) who tried to steal the setlist from me- FUCK you. I definitely didn't see you camped out in line hours before the doors open, so the fact that you think you're taking it from me is hilarious.