"backstage passes for the both of you, again, what does it mean to you, you think you're writing wrongs with your old typewriter, but you haven't got a clue"
i was going to write about the best gig i ever went to, but ive done that several times in several places and can wait for this blog until im short of ideas.
the only person i knew with an old typewriter was the guy we only knew as "the cool emo drummer". i cant remember the first time we met, but the second time was at an open mic night where he was drumming for 2 drunken middle-aged characters playing glam and blues covers. i cant really think of a generous way to say they didnt suck, but sitting in his own happy world at the back in an old comfortable jumper, hair flopping from side to side with every head-dance, the cool emo drummer effortlessly held the enthusiastic row into something resembling musical structure. he oozed cool in a gentle, self-effacing way and speaking to him that evening left me with the impression of the best sort of quiet man.
im ashamed to say i dont think i ever spoke to him again, though i did see him around several times. he used to sit on the steps in the sunshine writing poetry on a beat up old typewriter. i was never quite nosy enough to try to read the stanzas over his sholder as i passed, so i cant say whether he wrote anything of any artistic or literary merit. but from the little i knew of him, i wouldnt be at all suprised
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