November 30th, 2009 / 6:01 pm
Snippets
Snippets
Matthew Simmons—
“Yar yar yar.”: 45 minutes of Fugazi stage banter. If someone crowd surfed at your reading, would you be angry, proud, or confused?
“ice-cream eatin’ motherfucker”
still makes me laugh
“ice-cream eatin’ motherfucker”
still makes me laugh
“angry, proud confused”? Nope. Horny.
“angry, proud confused”? Nope. Horny.
“What’s wrong? Why are you giving me the finger? Well, let’s talk about it.”
“What’s wrong? Why are you giving me the finger? Well, let’s talk about it.”
Also, “Minor Threat broke up when you were two.”
Also, “Minor Threat broke up when you were two.”
Fucking proud. If they headbanged along to the cadence of my prose I’d be white-sticky.
Fucking proud. If they headbanged along to the cadence of my prose I’d be white-sticky.
I love most of this stuff, though there was certainly some points where Fugazi’s lectures on people detracting from everyone’s enjoyment ended up detracting from everyone’s enjoyment.
I love most of this stuff, though there was certainly some points where Fugazi’s lectures on people detracting from everyone’s enjoyment ended up detracting from everyone’s enjoyment.
Ain’t that always the way?
Ain’t that always the way?
If writers had slam dancing, which ones would be The Dwarves and which ones would be Fugazi? Who would encourage bad behavior, and who would read under bug lights?
Also, ew.
If writers had slam dancing, which ones would be The Dwarves and which ones would be Fugazi? Who would encourage bad behavior, and who would read under bug lights?
Also, ew.
I remember that a long time ago when I was just a youngun I had my hair dyed purple-red at a salon in SF by an “older girl” whose name was _____ Fugazi and I remember at the time thinking “what a cool name” “is that really her last name?” “that can’t possibly be her last name” “I think I know where she got her last name” “where did she get her last name?”
If someone crowd surfed at my imaginary so-called reading, I would be happy, proud, and probably confused in a good way.
I remember that a long time ago when I was just a youngun I had my hair dyed purple-red at a salon in SF by an “older girl” whose name was _____ Fugazi and I remember at the time thinking “what a cool name” “is that really her last name?” “that can’t possibly be her last name” “I think I know where she got her last name” “where did she get her last name?”
If someone crowd surfed at my imaginary so-called reading, I would be happy, proud, and probably confused in a good way.
I’d just be shitting myself that enough people had shown up for said to happen. Then kick someone’s teeth out.
I’d just be shitting myself that enough people had shown up for said to happen. Then kick someone’s teeth out.