Mr. City/ Mrs. Show

Friday night I went to Mr. City. I kept telling people I was going to Mr Show, because I a. always mix shit up between my head and my mouth and b. don't pay attention.

Mr. City is in the warehouse area of the west loop, where all the meat packing places are nestled between art galleries and extremely fancy restaurants and odd wholesalers. Evidently 8 *kids* live there and pay $2,000/mo ($250 each). It is just a huge warehouse so what they did is build 8 little shacks as rooms. They're all artists so the place looks good, hip with wood cut outs, metallic wallpaper, plastic figurines, etc. They have shows in the basement. 6 bands played Friday rotating between 2 stages, someone always setting up and someone always playing. Boys came from as far as california and baltimore, as near as Minneapolis, all to play.

The audience was hip and dirty, I suspect a lot of artists. There was a lot of hanging out on the sidewalk and tiresome/difficult dancing to bands so advanced they are beyond rhythm.

I regretted wearing all white and wondered why Rotten Milk is always so excited.

It was a myspace kind of night.

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Saturday afternoon found me at the Tastee Freeze. A million bands playing in a parking lot of one of my favorite hot dog/soft serve places in chicago.

There was one band, so good I didn't even get their name of 5 old men playing rock and roll. It is embarrassing how much I love anything that sounds like the misfits. really embarrassing.

Shows like these just make me kick myself for not making my own music. I harbor secret convictions that I'm a musical genius. I'm also kicking myself because I get so fucking mad that every show I go to is a bunch of dudes playing and feeling really pleased about themselves. I should be that dude.

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Speaking of dudes: 3 of my 4 exboyfriends were at the parking lot show. They are all standing around, in the same amount of space a car might occupy. All amicable, all happily dating and having sex with other women.