Some nights I feel like I've accidentally tumbled from my real life into the land of hipsters and Pabst Blue Ribbon tallboys (metaphoric on the drinks. in reality the beer came from Lake Superior Brewery. I know this thanks to the large man next to me on the couch whose shirt matched the bottles. I abstained from drinking at the house show.).
Not that this is a bad thing. Duluth (and girls playing Jewel covers in high school) made me hate live music, but Duluth has also redeemed live music for me. Calvin Johnson + Mt. Eerie (aka The Microphones. Damn indie bands changing names) two weeks ago was pretty sweet, regardless of political paper mache Ghandi and John Lennon in moomoo. Mumu? Moomi. Tonight I saw Thanksgiving and Lake play in “gay frame”, this amazing A-frame house set at on angle on the corner of a block on upper central hillside. They had giant windows with automatic blinds facing the lake with a perfect view. Their bathroom was cowboy themed. I think the homeowners might have been a couple. I'd assume so. Half of those in attendance work at Whole Foods Co-Op. Maybe more than half. I ran six blocks uphill to wait for an hour of setup. I never have money when I want to buy a CD.
Following the show was wine and fire in a friend's living room. Batteries must be removed from smoke detectors, lest they spoil the poetry.
Prior to the show was dinner with condescending talk of hipsters/scenesters in the cities who just “go to shows, ride bike, and drink.” That doesn't sound all that bad to me. I love pretention. I also love that anyone in the upper Midwest knows the cities/twin cities means Minneapolis/St. Paul, but anywhere else in the world they have their own “twin cities” or “quad cities” or “the city” or what have you.
In conclusion, I want to be a fancy gay homeowner with retro furniture and a themed bathroom. I'll pass on the small dog and invisible fence.