It was a slippy, slidey evening on Saturday and somehow all of the attractive people of Brooklyn slipped and slid on over to Glasslands.   That place was packed with some decent trim.  I was seeing sevens and eights  just creepy-crawling that place like vagina-having cockroaches.  I wanted to stomp on all of them. (with my ding-dong, natch.)

Jonathan Toubin and Ian Skavonious (saxophonist of such ska bands as Skavoovie and the Epitones) were playing strictly 45 rpm singles.  They looked good, so good.  It felt right, so right.  All through the night.

Adequate tang was sprawled all over the place.  I kept thinking about what the Rock would say if he were there, probably something about strudel.  He would go up to all of the girls and ask them if they had a funny feeling in their tummies and then tell them to go away. Then probably do something off of a turnbuckle.

The first band up was Suckers.  I thought they were boring when I heard them on Myspace but seeing them live was a whole ‘nother deal.  They showed me a thing or two.  What’s that you’re pulling out of a satchel there, Brian from the Suckers?  Could it be a trumpet?  It is.  And I am not annoyed at all.

The K-Holes are a band featuring Jack who used to be in the Black Lips.  It might be insulting to keep talking about someone’s former band but come on, it’s the fucking Black Lips.  He got me into the show for free and I gave him some Hennessy.  He told me that his band isn’t very good but he is a liar.  The K-Holes are really good.  They start out the songs all surfy and then like a carnival ride it just speeds up and whirls around and you can’t get off and you’re in a wonderful Scrambler like ride of being drunk while watching the K-Holes.

Hennessy is a good drink.  Rappers think it’s cool and so white people under twenty-eight do too.  It is great in cold weather and people feel classy when you have it on you. Bring Hennessy with you everywhere.

Finally Golden Triangle went on.  The name is a reference to Brigitte Bardot’s secret garden which is pretty cool, a lot cooler than heroin production anyway.  I kept shouting “AAAAAAYYYY!” after every song.  People should do that when music they approve of finishes playing.  It is a thing that should be.  There was psychedelic images projected on the walls and furniture and a strobe light going off and that carnival-ride-lurching-into-full-on-orbit feeling started again.

The lights, noise and heat became so much that it was like Contact where even though I was in a vessel of alien design that was just falling fifty feet it felt like time was slowing down and I was outside of my body and I could look down on myself, like playing GTA.  I became aware that I really had the ability to do absolutely anything.  I also realized that I should form a band (called No Hope or posusibly Golden Retriever or Dolphin).  I became so excited about my new found freedom and lack of fear that I almost took off all my clothes but I wanted to keep riding the good feeling so I started dancing really hard with people that seemed receptive to entering my aura and enjoying my energy.  We stomped around like it was a teen center ska show which must have warmed Ian Skavonious’s heart because he shouted out,”Pick it up, rude bwah!”  in a fake Jamaican accent and made it rain Red Stripe all over his big charming Beatle bobblehead of a melon.