#3 of consecutive tuesday Damnwell shows at Lakeside Lounge went well; the volume of people present in the audience had gone down from the previous week, so there was ample standing room.... I arrived on time this week, having planned on actually.. SEEING the band. But that wasn't a problem, I managed a spot in the front right by the corner. They sounded amazing, as usual, and the singer's lyric/tab sheets kept falling in the middle of their sets, as usual. Good stuff, good stuff. (I'm going all the way out to Maxwell's in NJ to see them again on Saturday with local band extraordinaire, SUREFIRE!)

But the thing was, I was stuck next to this annoying guy who kept whipping out a sharpener and sharpening a pencil. (He was sketching the band -- and not very well.) I'm pretty sure he got pencil shavings all over the floor. And that would have been fine in any other event than that he started speaking to me -- and he did!

I wrapped my scarf around my neck like so:

to facilitate a quick efficient strangulation (as quick and efficient as strangulations go, anyway..)
I ignored his advances and tried to be as unresponsive as possible by limiting the variety of my replies exclusively to monotone perfunctory "uh-huh"s, but he kept on rambling and slaving over his miserable "art". And then I tried to find a point at which to sever our absurd, one-sided conversation (I was not speaking, unless you consider a series of "yeah"s and nods "speaking") with the "I have a boyfriend" lie, but in the darkness of the bar, I couldn't seem to locate the right place to strategically slip it in.
At one point I think he said, "So what are you into?"
"Huh?"
"what's your style...? Or are you just chinese?"
And I thought, oh dear, and two more sets of verbal exchanges later, I said, "I've gotta be going." The whole thing was just kind of entertaining. I got a good laugh out of it.

Sorry, no impromptu suicide, heh.