I went to a show at the renovated Rialto Theater in downtown Tucson. I paid $4 for a Michelob light in a 16-oz aluminum canister. I waited for quite some time, met some other grad students. Eventually the opening act The Clientele performed, and they were so bad and lethargic that they make palm trees wilt outside the venue. I have never seen a band with less charisma or energy. All their songs sounded the same, like a bad cover of Velvet Underground's "Candy Says" or "Jesus" on repeat. Such went eight or nine songs.
Then I left to go across the street where the booze was cheaper. I saw two English profs, who seemed surprised to see me. I was wearing a black used shirt I bought that afternoon, and said, "Hello." I saw another grad student--a high school English teacher that is in an MA program where she doesn't have to do the MA exam. She called it a "mini-MA." Across the street I got a shot of Knob Creek which was Not Enough, and cost $5. Bad. That meant I paid $9 for essentially no booze. Stirred to action, I stepped into the Club Congress's Tap Room, where Old Style and PBR cans only cost $1.50. I drank two, then went back to the theater, and Spoon started their show, to my excitement. They were great, but I got the feeling that their momentum dwindled as the night went on. They played "Chicago" and some other goodies from their classics, but the new songs felt unfamiliar. Their lead guy Britt Daniels is awesome, though, and it was good to hear his voice in person. The crowd was nice, too. The bassist seemed really happy. Britt said, "It's good to be back in Tucson. I think we're understanding things a little better now." I guess I now may assume that Tucson and Austin are not "sister cities."
Spoon's lyrics are intelligent and their song structures keep one interested. "Fitted Shirt," which may be one of the weaker songs on Girls Can Tell, was given thorough treatment. I'm gonna put on a fitted shirt.
It was a good night. I should've flirted with random female strangers more.
Lately I've been feeling that I don't like the Department. I went out Tuesday night and heard the litany "undergrads are stupid" too much, then was reminded that what I should do with my degree and what I actually want to do with my life may not match. (How much passion and effort can I really put into publishing articles on blah-blah-blah? How long can I talk about PIE (point, interpretation, explanation) structure for paragraphs? Good Lord, how long?) I think I'd rather die in war--or survive and become a general by age 36--or sentence men to die as a public prosecutor, followed by a successful political career, placing me in the centers of power in the most powerful nation on Earth.
One day I'll find my Scene.