egomania

Last night we went to see Mouse on Mars and Kid 606 at the INdependent. It was definitely a different vibe than the night we saw Cut Chemist and Lyrics Born. We were late, but they were even later, and the place was practically empty. We took up places along the edge with our drinks and chatted and watched the crowd.

Halfway through Kid 606 this tall spiky-haired blonde guy in a black motorcycle jacket sauntered up to the front, directly in front of the stage, turned his back to 606, and leaned against the stage, facing the audience. This struck me as so bizarre. I could never do that, would never do that. Occasionally, he turned around and yelled at 606, who didn't look up. The guy kept yelling what appeared to be obscenities and derisive remarks, and then he turned back around, leaning against the stage. It occurs to me what a rush that must be to an egomaniac. If you're standing right there, in front of the crowd, looking back at them, it must look like everyone's looking at you.

He turned and yelled at 606 a few more times, getting no response, and returned to his station. And then he spit on the floor. Finally, he reached into his pocket and very elaborately began putting in earplugs. Everything he did all night was slow, purposeful, and elaborate. Like he knows he's on display and he loves it. It was so weird.

If I were a ballsier gal, I would've walked up there and stood right next to him, facing the crowd, without a word. I wanted to SO BAD!!! But I am not that ballsy.

Some short japanese guy with a huge afro started dancing around all freaky at the front, circling around Egoboy, eventually asking him to hold his drink. Egoboy took the drink, very bemused, and as the entire room watched, Japanfro loaded a one-hitter and handed it to Egoboy, taking back his drink. Egoboy lit it up, took a deep hit, and handed the one-hitter back. Japanfro then danced off freakily to parts unknown. We saw him a few times during the night, skulking through the crowd, crouched low. Considering all the evidence, (the girl who was dancing so hard and weird I thought she was having a seizure, the freakishly tall guy in overalls with terrible gas, Japanfro, and Egoboy) there was definitely a marked chemical element on the loose.

When (half of) Mouse on Mars went on, the bass was so hard that it was vibrating my nostrils. It was vibrating all of my vital organs. Applying that sickening vibration to a stomach that unwisely went from wine to hefeweizen to Amstel Light to Amaretto Sours was not smart. Top it off with the crowd and the heat, and I had to go outside for some fresh air. MoM wasn't knocking either of our socks off musically, and being inside made my stomach want to turn itself inside out, so we bailed. It was exactly the kind of night that would've had a detour to Taco Cabana for bean and cheese tacos. :( Damn you, Taco Cabana, for not having California locations! Damn you!!!

We came home and after my stomach actually did turn itself inside out (how old am I???) we made our own damn bean and cheese tacos.