Cultural Anthropology

I hope you weren't too bored by the interview... the startling lack of sarcastic commentary gave me pause.

A few days back my friend Beth called me up and said she had a free extra ticket to DI and the MISFITS at the KeyClub. I give credit to my friend Beth who didn't put up with my usual excuses like, it's late, I hate parking, I hate going to that part of Sunset, let alone that it was a hardcore punk show. She said, you only live once. After a few hemsandhaws, of which I am always guilty of, I went. My reason being, you do only live once and I rarely explore any music genre if not by force. and they are LEGENDARY.

How to Fit In at a Punk Show:
Step 1: Wear Black, you can never go wrong with this favorite, but not all black, that would be goth, you do not belong at this show.
Step 2: Over accessorize on silver/metal jewelry or wear dark/heavy makeup, as in clearly abuse eyeliner, but don't go goth. That's too far. You do not belong at this show.
Step 3: Mowhawks? Hair Dye? Lucky me I have pink hair. This automatically gives me a leg up. And in addition, since it covers my entire head I can't be accused of being a pansy who just has highlights. I'm hardcore.
Step 4: Wear earplugs. There's no excuse not to. You can hear the music, your ears don't bleed, and you won't get tenatus when you're older.

I do hate going to this part of Sunset. The last painful memory seared into my brain was a $271 moving violation, as I wandered through a yellow because I was "lost" looking for the SaddleRanch- which you can be sure is 1) a meat market 2) a breeding ground for post-reality tv stars esp yummy ones named Blair from RR, operating the mechanical bull 3) no, I won't tell you why i was there. Now, not to mention the slew of parking tickets I used to get when I was younger... They have since greatly improved the signage- which can be as much as 3ft of signs and regulations. Having no cash and generally being a cheapskate- I parked .48miles away. When walking is involved I remember, hell I lived in Chicago. This is cake. And since I parked south on Doheny I got to hoof it up vertical style and passed by a FrankLloydWright house. Nice.

People Watching: Plenty. Mainly you watch for people who "don't belong" or are clearly out of their element. You'd think this would be me, but you'd be wrong. When Beth called to see how I was post show- I bristled at her asking me if I'd recovered. She's a shock and awe girl and I'm way too non-pulsed to be flipped out by the climbing gear that was hanging down from her friend Rob's earlobes... (these two were also responsible for the grunion run fiasco.), or the copious amounts of sweat streaming off the leadsinger... remember I 24houritman. And coincidentally had flashbacks about it when a kid started thrashing his head around to the left of me, showering me with his misty hair sweat. Thanks.

Suspects: A tall coco-colored guy wearing a DaveMirra Fox logo hat and a stylish jacket. He belongs on Sunset, just not at this show. I love him because he was one of our main moshpit buffers. His two charges, because he was indeed an escort, were like versions of young Hanson, with their stringy blonde hair and waif bodies. The youngest one was eager to know if his guard liked the show and he seemed to be enjoying it, occassionally nodding his head along to the music, and pushing people back into the mosh when it seemed appropriate.

The other two people I watched but enjoyed much less was a straightlaced looking guy, dressed appropriately but his lithe, or as some people might say skinny white girl-friend, was in tow. These two were the most annoying, bcs for 1/2 the show they were in my direct vacinity. Faux-moshing. I wanted to vomit. Go back up the balcony. To make matters worse the third-wheel was there, and with those I always sympathize... The boy wanted to get closer to the stage, the girl clearly not- you can see the horrible dilemna and I felt very sorry for the boy.

Watch the hot security break up fights: Besides watching a chick fight break out then another fight- which one of the guys actually got brought up on stage- the lead singer said, we don't do this among our people- I thought, where the hell am I, this is the better version of Suburbia- that movie. Nice. AND they even threw out cold bottled water to the audience. Ah, life in 2005.

I'd entered into a tame version of punk/horror reality. The kind of place where there's bottled water, where fights are broken up quickly, where there's hanson lookalikes... Where exactly was I? The lead singer of DI kept screaming, as they must, about Fuck the Man, and don't talk to cops... I wanted to laugh but enjoyed being able to flip the bird carteblanche, because quite frankly, isn't this all just a little bit passe? The kids seemed to be taking this older guy seriously so it still apparently speaks to something, taps into an angst I no longer have, most certainly, did have. But what does one do when you want to yell, excuse me mr. angry punkrock man hasn't this all been said before and doesn't it eventually lose meaning and isn't it a cliche?

Get a shot of Vodka I guess and call it a night... spend the rest of the evening wondering about cultural context, assimilation, image as identity, negating labels... decide to wear khaki's next time.