Monday you can hold your head...

It was only Monday, and the week was already stale.

I went to see a band called Big City Rock last night. The original plan was to drop in on the "secret" Big City Rock show taking place at small, intimate super-charming Maxwell's in super-charming Hoboken on a Friday.
But I skipped it.
Instead I ended up paying $30 that following Monday to stand in a room full of scary people who showed up for some band called Institute that apparently Gavin Rossdale plays in.
I am a grand idiot.

uh huh.

I haven't felt this out of place since the last time I saw Phantom Planet, and at least their fans are only scary in a nymphomaniac fangirl kind of way. And of course it goes without saying that the Gavin Rossdale side project frightened me, so I was out of Irving Plaza by 10:30 fleeing back to Union Square with every intention of taking the subway home. But when I realized that everyone on the platform was either going home from work or leaving home for the LES, I went back up the stairs and sat in the square for half an hour listening to my iPod until it got too cold to remain sedentary outside any longer. (Being a bona fide creature of the night, I am never content to head home any sooner than the rest of the city has long retired to bed and even the LES has become a ghost town.) Nothin' like being displaced in the city at 10:30 on a Monday night..... sprawled on a bench in union square that I'm sure Al the cross-eyed hobo would have shoo-ed me off of by 12...
Lame night.