Posted in girls, photos by okkame on July 27, 2011

Christer Strömholm



Psychic Paramount/Spectre Folk @ Cake Shop tonight


I don’t like Cake Shop. I don’t like being in LES. I don’t like Bruar Falls even more although it is in Williamsburg. But they’re better than The Local 269 which might be the shittest bar in shitty LES. A guy I know named Brian played a show there. We hung out a few times. He talks to female strangers without hesitation and sometimes coaxs a phone number out of a willing girl. I kind of envy him when it comes to my celibate dick. He’s long haired and handsome. But he’s old. Older than me. He was in fucking Days Of The New. Now he’s in a clapping-worthy fusion jazz group who performed 20 minutes too long. I’m talking about The Local 269 again. That bar sucks a donkey’s dick. Its karma is so tremendous that a row of  Motorhead songs  couldn’t even be redeeming. And what’s with a fucking donation bucket? I’m talking about The Local 269’s bartender who more or less forced the audience to give away $$.

Donation is an insidious concept. Tip is a cousin of Donation. They’re incestuous. But don’t stress yourself worrying about their retarded child because they’re  gay. But mind you, I have been tipping bartenders for two weeks. Nothing is actually free here. Well, the Endless Boogie + Soldiers Of Fortune show was free in a true sense. I saw kegs the first time in my life there. Free beer was there and no fucking tip buckets. So beer permeates. I donated $2 to get 2 cans of PBR at some white-walled place a block away from the said donkey cocksucker. I passed by a familiar and interesting-looking scene – oh I smelled trust fund ! – so I stepped in but only to harass myself. You know how annoying those Art fags are. I went to some Art fag events when Wookby was around. They – the events, the people and the Art? you call those duds Art? – suck a donkey’s balls. Art fags delude me. They delude me into screaming “I love music nerds.” Welcome to the world of Art fags. This seeming gallery reeked of rotten eggs and was hot. Was Hot. Hot. Hot chicks? Hot chicks hatched from rotten eggs? Dynasty Handbag was playing. I’m such a hipster that I knew she is Dynasty Handbag. Borrring. My roommate referred to her as “a crackhead”.  Genesis P-Orridge was Djing. He was shorter than I imagined. My roommate told him I wanted to take a picture with him but he was busy working. He was busy working for Art fags. I hate Art fags. 


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