November 30, 2006 "The Ballad of TV Violence"

11/30/2006 Elixur Night Club - Rockford, IL
Other bands: Smile Empty Soul

The brutal cold came in so we stopped at a Goodwill somewhere off the main drag in Rockford to buy some more layers of warmth. They had brand new knockoff socks and gloves there so I bought a pair of each of those, too. (Used socks and gloves are something I do not do.)

Then I walked across the parking lot and bought a bigger battery for my Motorola Q, the first non-flip smartphone I'd ever bought, thanks to Songs Publishing. I had joined the thumb army.

The club was partially hidden behind an eroding strip mall development, recognizable only by a hardly legible sign of pink glowing letters. It and its surrounding real estate were on the end of the retail spectrum that just precedes bankruptcy and vacancy. The retail age of Chinese buffets and places that buy gold.

Inside, it was a carnival of carnal decorum. Curtains and musty plush furniture spotted the floor and side walls. Backstage was crammed with broken chairs, tables and what I could only think were stage props for some kind of theater production.

The stage had dancing cages on either side. The lighting design was steeped in decadent reds and depressed blues and I had my doubts that the restrooms hadn't seen various forms of sex used as currency for controlled substances at least a few times.

We played to another inattentive crowd, but this time with a few drunk whoopers up front, doing the drunk dance, fingers pointing like rap stars, drinks held sloppily in the other hand. Still mostly an X-station crowd but I ran in to some girls who had a bit of scene flair. It was getting harder to delineate the tribes sometimes.

I kept by the merch mostly, after we played. There was a short-haired blond girl who spent a lot of time talking to us, telling us about her time as a diesel mechanic in the Army. She was Amazonian, toned and all. And there was something sexual in her energy. She didn't look like a stripper, but more like Tank Girl but without the bald patches in her hair.

We talked and I flirted, and despite the undertones she kept herself almost forcibly aloof. It goes without saying, long days on long tours filled with countless female-less hours takes its toll on even the most pious of males. A side of my brain wanted to see how far I could go with just words while the other side held fast and breathed quiet relief when she walked away and out the door.