Friday, October 13, 2006

In which we are constantly weirded out, frightened, and finally blown away on an otherwise normal weekday

Yesterday started out like any other Thursday. A bus ride, a croissant, a morning cup of coffee with Jon Carroll: all was normal, all was well. In fact, even work seemed to cruise by without unneeded worry or hullabaloo. Then, while waiting for Zach on the sidewalk so we could take the subway to practice, I get a tap on the shoulder. It's someone I haven't seen in oh, six years, and someone who, it not-so-slowly dawned on me, had a tattoo on his head.

To be specific, his forehead. Right above his eye. Now, here's the thing: when you haven't seen someone in a half dozen years, it's hard to just come right out and ask "So, did that thing hurt?" You've got to be polite, make small talk, find out that the man is doing well, is back in school, is visiting family. But all you're thinking is: Tattoo. Forehead. I mean, Mike Tyson has a tattoo on his forehead. That's not exactly prestigious company.

But we chatted. We reminisced. I spent three minutes avoiding his forehead. He went his merry way and Zach & I went ours. We practiced, loudly. We got tired. I went to see the National.

But it was as if Forehead opened up some rip in the space-time continuum. Everything was suddenly and aggressively weird. I ran into Brett (who goes on tour with DDay & us from time to time & who knew Forehead back six years ago & who I'd already called to tell the above story & now, strangely was next to me in line at the Great American Music Hall). Brett told me of his cab ride there wherein the cabbie played his own personal recordings, which were apparently jazzy little ditties about his aunt growing a mustache after testoterone treatments. We were accosted by a gravel-voiced bum who told us white women saved his life. Uneasy stares were exchanged. Someone walked up to me and asked if I wouldn't mind lighting their cigarette. An odd request, I thought. Oh wait, I realized, he's only got one arm. We hurried inside.

And thank God for the National. They were normal. Which is to say, as fantastic as normal. To anyone who has never seen the National, take it from me: you need to go. We played with them and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! more than a year ago and I was blown away during soundcheck. Which is saying something. When half the lyrics are "can I get some of the left guitar in my monitor?" and the song is still epic, then, well, you win. I surrender.

Hopefully today will be...well...not normal, per se, but weird in a more pleasant way. Like, say, seeing Lady Godiva riding a unicorn outside my office. Something whimsical. Something without unfortunate tattoos. We'll see how it goes. San Francisco has never been reknowned for normalcy.

24 comments:

Anonymous said...

Man, you should have come out to Thunderbirds Are Now! with David, Zach, and I. It was a fantastically drunken time. And no forehead tattoos. Or bums...

birdmonster said...

Man, I totally would've. I love those gents. And both their CDs. And their glasses. The National tickets were pre-purchased, so going was obligatory, followed by awesomer than awesome. Yes, I sound like a 10th grader. So it goes.

kasi said...

This is, by far, one of the most amusing writings I have had the pleasure of reading, right before leaving my work day behind. Thanks, yet again, for making my face and ribs hurt. Awesome.

birdmonster said...

Kasi: Much obliged, much obliged. I'll try & repeat the feat on Monday.

CW: Just talked to Zach. He's hungover. You done did well.

This, That and the Brother said...

what if it was a temporary tattoo and he wrote a blog on why you ignored it?

birdmonster said...

TTatB: I would hope he would come over here & link it. Sadly, it didn't look very temporary. Looked more like the sort of thing you regret 3 months after you do it. Like a sex change, kind of.

elvette said...

So you never asked him about the tattoo after the initial yip-yap?

He's doing well? Isn't the forehead telling a different story?

birdmonster said...

He's doing well. Definately. I think the forehead is a reminder of a...less well time.

Anonymous said...

Ha. Ha. Have you talked to David yet? He said he drank a bottle of wine before coming and drinking beers and shots with us. I'm sure he was feeling like hell this morning.

birdmonster said...

He did mention something this morning. Mostly, it sounded like "grhmmghbgmrmbhrrhbghbm"

Anonymous said...

Well, if any of you guys want a repeat my buddies are coming into town tonight and I'm sure we'll be drinking at Foley's or something.

Nothing extravagant, pretty low-key.

Heidi the Hick said...

Hi Birdmonster. This post was excellent.

Can you do me a favour? Can you please tell me what kind of console that is in the photo, so that I can show my husband and say, "That's an SSL Neve Octagon ProLogic AutoTools 6000" and then he'll be really impressed and think I've been paying attention, therefore making me even more awesome in his eyes...

thanks!

...and I have no gummis.

derek. said...

i just finished reading this, when my doorbell rang. it was the pizza delivery man, with in order that totaled 22.22, cosmic. actually, the weird part was that he looked just like eric chavez, only jockey size.

Kt said...

Hey let me know by email who head tattoo is I figure it may be someone from college.

nicola six said...

a pussy could be a bird monster

Anonymous said...

nice blog! you got witty humor ;-)

Higgity Heitner said...

You talked to a man with a tattooed forehead, I watched porn on a bus TV. You say potato, I say potahto. Also, if I knew this fine gentleman from college, please let me know via email.

BKW said...

u blog is great!!
i write abt luxury thing

visit: Lx8.blogspot.com

Gasoline Hobo said...

what if lady godiva was riding a chocolate unicorn, only the unicorn was really a narwhal, and it was thursday, which means it's time for the Weevil Dancing?

also, what if someone put peyote in my tecate?

Magdalene said...

Excellent! Normal life on the web at last, and way more interesting than my kinds of mental illness.

Adam LaVey said...

Normal, shmormal! Screw that! When life get's normal it then get's boring and then we're all dead.

birdmonster said...

Heidi: The heights of my ignorance of, well, really fucking tall. I don't know what kind of console that is. It had a lot of knobs, that's for sure.

Derek: It was probably Chavez. I think he had a doppelganger playing third base all week. Poor A's.

Kt: I just did. Be afraid.

Nicola: Hmmm. I'd stay clear of that.

CHERT: Thanks. Of course, so everyone knows, that was me, complimenting myself.

Higgity: I will. Be afraid.

BKW: Gud grammar! I proud.

GH: It was me. Thought that was my Mexican Budweiser. How was/is Canadia? I hope you return with that poached mustache you promised. Or a chocolate narwhal.

Magdalene: Your enjoyment pleases me. Your comment confuses me. I happily accept both.

Adam LaVey: Any relation to the LaVey. Fingers crossed for Grandpa.

Freudian Slip said...

Pretty funny stuff. I sure do enjoy the "realness" of your blog. Not like that canned tv that we have!
Matt

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