Muhammadali, GTRS, Motion Turns it On, & Passengers at Little John’s house

Little John had a little BBQ at his house a few weeks ago.  A couple of kegs, a grill burning all afternoon; it was awesome and I didn’t even have a beer (I reminded myself to not drink because a few weeks prior at the Todo Moto clubhouse, I told myself I wouldn’t drink but ended up with 7 Miller High Lifes in my system within 2 hours).  The weather was idyllic; by that I mean it was hot and humid and the mosquitoes were buzzing, the image in my mind of a Houston barbecue.  Kegstands abound. I met a kid there named Alex.  He was only 16 or 17.  I gotta watch out for him, he’s beating me at the “youngest kid at the show” game.  He was filming the bands with a fancy camera he borrowed from his school. I can’t wait til it’s online.

Muhmmadali:

GTRS:

Motion Turns It On (they did an awesome Screeching Weasel cover)

Passengers:

Seeing Howlies at the Mink and simultaneously being underage

I’d never heard Howlies before but, judging by their name, I thought they were going to be a noisy, overly wild, overly hip hipster band that drank PBR.  I was wrong.  I way WAY off the mark.  They sounded more like the Trashmen, the Sonics, or Otis Redding than the Monotonix-type band in my head.  They played straight up dirty rock ‘n roll music your mom wouldn’t let you buy.  They were even produced by Kim Fowley, the filthy genius behind the Runaways and Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers.  The song they played that really hit me, though, was down-tempo R&B ballad called Aluminum Baseball Bat.  In my mind, the only way they could have written that song was by spending countless hours of their lives listening to Stax Record singles.

On the way back home I began to think about the kids that couldn’t make it to the show.  Sometimes I’ll be looking at calendars and I’ll see a band I’d like to see (the Riverboat Gamblers) but then I’ll see that they’re playing at a 21+ bar that I can’t get into (Rudyard’s) and a feeling of disappointment takes over me.  I can’t help but imagine that there’s another underage kid in this city that’ll see someone is playing at the Mink and feels disappointed because he or she can’t get in.

I’ve been going to shows for a pretty long time and I’d NEVER been to 21+ bars until the Mink came along.  I remember back in 8th grade and the early years of high school being turned away from Rudyard’s and the Proletariat for being under 21, but those situations were pretty rare.   I always thought they were doing it because they were trying to create an exclusive atmosphere or they hate kids, but in reality it’s a simple insurance issue.  All-ages places like Walter’s that have a full-service bar have to pay for a MUCH higher insurance package than the Mink who is 21+ and have multiple full service bars.  It may not sound fair but bars aren’t just immobile physical buildings; they’re run by real living and breathing people with wives and kids who work their way from stockboy at Soundwaves up to manager and then finally they save enough money to live their dreams and buy a bar.  Well, that’s at least how the Mink is.

Mopeds & Presidents Heads

I was looking forward to the Menzingers’ show last week at the Presidents Heads Gallery, the second floor of a warehouse occupied by Jason and Patrick.  I first got excited after I heard that there was gonna be a keg there and then I got even more excited after learning that the gallery got its name due to the fact that it shares the space with all those giant Presidents heads you see in local news articles.  I’d never seen them before but I always wanted to, I just never knew where they were.  Most of my friends know that I NEVER ride out to the Heights because of the distance and I would normally get a ride with Aaron but he’s on tour right now and it’s about time for an adventure so a moped ride out to the Heights was on the day’s itinerary. I pulled out my map and traced out a good route from my house to the gallery and packed a backpack with some clothes.  I made sure to bring my pint glass.  I went out to my porch to get my bike ready and noticed a stray cat sleeping next to it.

I rode my moped from my house in East End all the way to Washington Ave and I’m surprised I didn’t die along the way.  The old warehouses in the Old Warehouse District looked awesome, though.  Some of the businesses have been open for around 50 years and they haven’t changed their signs since then. I have to go back there to take some pictures.

I pulled up to the gallery and lock my moped up.  I walked up to the second floor of the warehouse and walked around and it was amazing.  The warehouse was once a lead paint factory and it was enormous.  The ceilings were high and the hallways were long and the windows were the size of my living room floor.  I went to Freebird’s with Eric and Val and talked about why Aaron would go on tour right now. None of us could come up with a plausible answer.  After we got back, Darcy called me up and told me she was home.  I finished my burrito and unlocked my bike and went to go pick her up.  I’ve never ridden doubles on a street before, let alone at night, but it seemed alright and we didn’t die.  It went pretty well for having no helmets, a broken headlight, and a one-person seat with no passenger foot pegs.

Jason invited me, Val, and Darcy on the 3rd story roof.  He locked it up so people don’t fall off and die.  He unlocked a window for us and we had to walk up an old rusty aluminum staircase, walk across the 2nd floor roof, and then climb up a rickety wooden latter.  There were no guard rails or even ledges, just a flat roof that suddenly stopped.  The view was amazing.  We could see a near perfect skyline and an awesome view of the Presidents.

It was too hot for me and Darcy to actually watch the show so we spent most of our time on the roof.  It was kinda like a Rosa song.  She was jonesing for a fountain soda so we hopped on my moped and went the Valero down the street.  On the way back a biker told me to be safe out there since it was night and my headlight was broken.  I love it when bikers are nice to me.  We went back to the show and I said goodbye to some people and Darcy and I rode back to her place.  We hung out a bit and I started to get a bit woozy so I decided to take a shower and call it night.  Then Darcy got a call; one of her friends was at Catbird’s.  She asked me if I wanted to go and I eagerly said yes. We hopped in her truck and sped off.

I was walking through the bar and I heard two guys yelling “PETER LEE! PETER LEE! PETER LEE!” I looked around and saw nobody.  I walked passed the patio door and heard the same thing.  I look outside and I see Ben Breier and Hugo from high school hanging out. They were hanging out with Darcy’s friend, Lucy (I think that was her name).  How perfect, I go to hang out with Darcy’s friend whom I’d never met and she happens to be hanging out with two guys I went to high school with.  Ben spent quite a bit of time in Japan and I hadn’t seen Hugo since he graduated. We talked about Japanese girls, showed each other our tattoos, and bought each other drinks until the bar closed.  Darcy and I got home at around 2 or 3 in the morning.

Our meeting at Amy’s Ice Creams started at 9:30 the next morning, less than 8 hours from the time we got home. We met the new managers. I put in my letter of resignation the next day.

534

December 19, 2007, 03:51

Am I the only person that still updates their LiveJournal? I sure hope not ’cause then I’d be a loser.

Phở is one of the best foods ever made. I think it’s my favorite food to eat. However, my favorite phở restaurant closed down some time ago. It was called Phở Cong Ly and then later Phở Tien Anh. It was on 2600 Travis St, right in the heart of downtown. Phở Cong Ly was the greatest restaurant to ever exist. Their chopsticks were always dirty, their tabletops had no tablecloths and they never washed them down, the floor was gray and faded brown because of all the dirt, the windows were covered in dust, and there was this really old Vietnamese waiter guy with a tattoo of an anchor on his left arm. They had the best phở in the world. I never had a bowl of phở since that place closed down. Does anyone recommend a GOOD phở place around downtown or southeast Houston? And, if possible, it is NOT Phở Saigon. And even more importantly, is one of the waiters a really old guy with a tattoo of an anchor?

529

October 21, 2007, 23:26

Watch my genius 16mm film!