Oh the heavy footsteps!

Last night was a weird night for me. I went to the Walkmen concert at the Beachland by myself. Which is a simple blanket statement, but let me break that down for you. It means that I:

a)drove the Beachland by myself
b)parked and walked by myself
c)walked through the door crowd by myself
d)waited at the bar by myself
e)drank my drink by myself
f)stood against the wall by myself
g)watched the crappy opening band by myself
h)smoked a cigarette outside by myself
i)left early overwhelmed by loneliness and not impressed enough by the band to battle that, by myself.

So not the best time I've ever had. I mean, I've gone to shows by myself before, I'm not a pussy. Usually I'm quite capable of having a good time. But last night was not the night for that. I knew it before I left the house, I think. It was this loose blanket of blah, that slowly tightened around me as I drove there, and was choking me by the time I settled into my spot against the wall. If the bands had been better it might have jolted me out of that thick green fog.

But the 2nd opening band (I missed Coffinberry) was sub par. They were decent enough at playing their instruments, but the promised beat anticipation never materialized, and the lead singer reminded me of a guy I knew at Thursdays a long time ago. It was wan. Like a kitten with a dead flower in its mouth.

And maybe my depression was throwing cottonballs in my ears, because the Walkmen failed to throw any punches either. It was good enough, it was pretty in that monochrome way they have, but it was too low key and monotone and every sound seemed like it was bouncing against a glass wall between the band and the audience. There were trombones waiting on the side, but I couldn't stick it out long enough to be disappointed by them.

So I don't know. Either it sucked cause I wasn't in the mood, or it sucked AND I wasn't in the mood. I tend towards the latter. I mean, if it was good, it would have made me feel better right?