Hardcore Show

Greetings Bloggers.

Today I will be reciting to you an ancient tale, full of wonder, merrymaking, damp  basements,  and loud music.  Be forewarned: the story you are about to hear is aeons old, it's age being surpassed only by its HORROR.  

It all started with a valiant young man named "Me," who will be sometimes referred to as "I."  Yesterday, September 27th, I was hanging out with several of my friends in my luxurious castle abode in West Philadelphia, north of Spring Garden Street.  For all of the freshman who don't yet know (I'm guessing most of you), Spring Garden is the street where Drexel Public Safety dares not venture north of, partly because of the flame expelling dragons who roam the streets, but mostly because the sidewalks are uneven and often extremely hazardous.  As I was saying, me and my buddies were kickin' it after having walked around the city all day at the Art Museum and the Philly Campus Kickoff on the Ben Franklin Parkway.  We were relaxing, enjoying a few colas when suddenly, with my brain and mouth working in unison, I realized and simultaneously exclaimed, "I have a show tonight!"  You see, when your'e in  rock and roll band, the last thing on your mind is your duties as a member of a band.  The main thing we concern ourselves is simply living like rockstars.  But, on this occasion I happened to remember that I had a "show."  For those who don't know, a "show" is the bastard child of a concert.  It is smaller, the bands are usually on independent record labels (if any), and often times there is much more fun to be had.

So, the show was to take place in the southern part of West Philly, just below Baltimore Avenue, at a friend of mine from USP's basement.  Because we young Philadelphians despise the use of automobiles, we knew we were going to have to hoof it all the way there.  Instead of trying to carry all  of my large guitar amplification equipment halfway across the city, I made a phone call and asked to borrow an associate of mine's equally large equipment which was already at the show.  Of course, he readily obliged to my request.  So, with guitar case in hand, me and my six bretheren began our quest which took about 40 minutes and was uneventful except for the rain that began to fall and a man who became angry with us for not giving him change for him and his supposed girlfriend.  

When we arrived at the show, the first act had just started, a hip hop group named Circuits and Tendons which consisted of two emcees and one DJ.  With this being a hardcore show, the sight of a hip hop trio would seem unusual to most, but, in my infinite wisdom I knew that the one emcee was a brother of the owner of the house.  Also, the other emcee is a guitarist in my band, so in fact my wisdom would seem quite limited in scope.  After the first act, everyone went upstairs and commenced the ancient ritual rites of the "Tapping of the Keg."  A keg is an ancient device which holds a large amount of soda pop, in this case, root beer.  After two more bands played, it was time for my own band "Cut It Out," to play (I didn't name the band, relax).  So, we played loud and fast, transcending hardcore music into a dimension of rock and roll bliss.

After the show, I finagled a ride back to my abode and then walked to Spring Chinese restaurant where my peers and I ate reasonably priced and reasonably crappy chinese food.  After this, we set off some obnoxiously loud fireworks and I went to bed.  Thus is my story, as it has been for thousands of years and how it shall be for thousands more.