8/7/09 Boston, MA @ Claymoss then moved to a house.
The Fuddy Duddies
Goddamned Boston. It had it out for us. Rather than flaunt my inability to be concise, here is a postcard sent back to the Monster House residents from Maryn Jones, former Boston resident, about the show. It is an accurate account.
“Hello! So, Boston was pretty much what I expected, but worse. There were terrifying misogynist spiky punks everywhere, & I got called ‘tootz’ plus many other savory phrases. & I almost got everyone jumped (I’ll add that it was by a drunk guy with a career killing neck tat. in the middle of the street). & That was after the power went out & we couldn’t play (An extension cord came unplugged and some confused genus decided to hit every switch on the fuse box and kill the power entirely). We moved the show to my ex-BF’s house, where he tried to get my sister high. We played a very loud, angry set. We miss you & love you & are glad you’re not Boston… P.S flooded basement and cops too.”
The front of the postcard was imprisoned lobster, bearing the clever slogan, “Trapped in Boston.” Maryn added, “My worst nightmare!” in purple sharpie.
A show can go from bad to worse but if you can ride the crap-wave long enough, you’ll make it out to something good. Kim, a younger sxe HC punk, was the one who got the show moved for us. She yelled her lungs out to try and get people to come from the powerless flooded show to Fort Fuck Awesome? Delay’s set was rushed and inebriated and my head hurt. I clunked it while loading in, extremely hard on the doorway to the basement. I managed to get a mouthful of microphone too when a kid ran into it as we slopped through “Territorial Pissings” by Nirvana. Some folks liked us though and we got to play some sort of set at least. We won in some small way. In a blaring, feeding back PA, late crowd of the party kind of way. Later, I got to watch a kid drunkenly sing strange songs romantically with/to his roommate and a bunch of other drunk people on a driveway half pipe. I shared a drink with our lovely host for the nite Candace and miss Arrthi. We met Maryn’s sweet sibs. Jesse got to watch wasted people box with one glove and a bare knuckle fist a block away. We all watched the house residents get reamed out by the cops for being loud always. They got around a $300 ticket. We said sorry and thanks and departed as the cops stood around looking pissed and tired.