stuffhipstershate:

Dancing at ConcertsOh, Christ, is that girl over there having a seizure? Someone should, like, grab her and hold down her tongue with, like, a swizzle straw or something. Wait…Oh, fuck—is she dancing? Really? Like, right up in the guitarist’s face? What the hell? Is she waving her hands in the air like she just don’t fucking care? Is this, like, a fifth grade dance at Cedar Lakes Junior High where someone spiked the punch and little straight-edge Sarah got unintentionally smashed and tried to grind with the foreign exchange student, Gunther, who ran to the bathroom and cried because his body is changing? No…I’m pretty sure that this is a Yo La Tengo concert, and I’m pretty sure that Ira would rather not see that chick’s uvula bouncing up and down as she belts out “Autumn Sweater” and gyrates. No, dude, uvula—like that thing in the back of your throat. Although I’m sure he can see that, too—she just attempted to do the twist. Ah, fuck, dude—why do people like that have to kill my buzz by coming to shows? I’m just gonna stand here in the front row and keep my face totally expressionless—that way those lyrical geniuses up there will know that I’m serious about my music.
(Photo)


AHAHA. I LAWLED so bad with the last line.

stuffhipstershate:

Dancing at Concerts

Oh, Christ, is that girl over there having a seizure? Someone should, like, grab her and hold down her tongue with, like, a swizzle straw or something. Wait…Oh, fuck—is she dancing? Really? Like, right up in the guitarist’s face? What the hell? Is she waving her hands in the air like she just don’t fucking care? Is this, like, a fifth grade dance at Cedar Lakes Junior High where someone spiked the punch and little straight-edge Sarah got unintentionally smashed and tried to grind with the foreign exchange student, Gunther, who ran to the bathroom and cried because his body is changing? No…I’m pretty sure that this is a Yo La Tengo concert, and I’m pretty sure that Ira would rather not see that chick’s uvula bouncing up and down as she belts out “Autumn Sweater” and gyrates. No, dude, uvula—like that thing in the back of your throat. Although I’m sure he can see that, too—she just attempted to do the twist. Ah, fuck, dude—why do people like that have to kill my buzz by coming to shows? I’m just gonna stand here in the front row and keep my face totally expressionless—that way those lyrical geniuses up there will know that I’m serious about my music.

(Photo)

AHAHA. I LAWLED so bad with the last line.

stuffhipstershate:

Dancing at ConcertsOh, Christ, is that girl over there having a seizure? Someone should, like, grab her and hold down her tongue with, like, a swizzle straw or something. Wait…Oh, fuck—is she dancing? Really? Like, right up in the guitarist’s face? What the hell? Is she waving her hands in the air like she just don’t fucking care? Is this, like, a fifth grade dance at Cedar Lakes Junior High where someone spiked the punch and little straight-edge Sarah got unintentionally smashed and tried to grind with the foreign exchange student, Gunther, who ran to the bathroom and cried because his body is changing? No…I’m pretty sure that this is a Yo La Tengo concert, and I’m pretty sure that Ira would rather not see that chick’s uvula bouncing up and down as she belts out “Autumn Sweater” and gyrates. No, dude, uvula—like that thing in the back of your throat. Although I’m sure he can see that, too—she just attempted to do the twist. Ah, fuck, dude—why do people like that have to kill my buzz by coming to shows? I’m just gonna stand here in the front row and keep my face totally expressionless—that way those lyrical geniuses up there will know that I’m serious about my music.
(Photo)


AHAHA. I LAWLED so bad with the last line.

stuffhipstershate:

Dancing at Concerts

Oh, Christ, is that girl over there having a seizure? Someone should, like, grab her and hold down her tongue with, like, a swizzle straw or something. Wait…Oh, fuck—is she dancing? Really? Like, right up in the guitarist’s face? What the hell? Is she waving her hands in the air like she just don’t fucking care? Is this, like, a fifth grade dance at Cedar Lakes Junior High where someone spiked the punch and little straight-edge Sarah got unintentionally smashed and tried to grind with the foreign exchange student, Gunther, who ran to the bathroom and cried because his body is changing? No…I’m pretty sure that this is a Yo La Tengo concert, and I’m pretty sure that Ira would rather not see that chick’s uvula bouncing up and down as she belts out “Autumn Sweater” and gyrates. No, dude, uvula—like that thing in the back of your throat. Although I’m sure he can see that, too—she just attempted to do the twist. Ah, fuck, dude—why do people like that have to kill my buzz by coming to shows? I’m just gonna stand here in the front row and keep my face totally expressionless—that way those lyrical geniuses up there will know that I’m serious about my music.

(Photo)

AHAHA. I LAWLED so bad with the last line.

Posted 2 years ago 71 notes

Notes:

  1. adayinbed reblogged this from stuffhipstershate
  2. jazzish reblogged this from stuffhipstershate
  3. lauren-ity reblogged this from stuffhipstershate
  4. wontmissyou reblogged this from stuffhipstershate
  5. daise reblogged this from stuffhipstershate and added:
    AHAHA. I LAWLED so bad
  6. dishguts reblogged this from stuffhipstershate
  7. weax reblogged this from stuffhipstershate and added:
    picture cracks me up.
  8. midwesterndirt reblogged this from stuffhipstershate and added:
    HAHAHAHAHA Also, if you don’t dance...show, or sing along,
  9. iamsarahmarie reblogged this from stuffhipstershate
  10. jhockey reblogged this from stuffhipstershate
  11. grammerslammar reblogged this from stuffhipstershate and added:
    concert it was exactly
  12. weareteamawesome reblogged this from stuffhipstershate
  13. tonlist reblogged this from stuffhipstershate and added:
    music and dance. I...like a lot of indie music, but can’t deal with
  14. little-triggers reblogged this from stuffhipstershate
  15. stuffhipstershate posted this

About:


sunset behind the trees but no
stars, rainwater falling invisible
miles in droplets & turns & twists
and silently (individually) touching her
cheek (but together on the sidewalk
a frightening roar) chalk-art reflections
of an intersection red green white
lights into the night a lost cool
path we take along sherbert back
alleys dripping contrast impossible to
reproduce the air's delight with our
noses; and here a lost singing mumbler -
a surprise bee hovers across a windowbox a
gift of pollen in exchange for vital sugar -
a messenger from chaos that tumbles away
a tiny wobbling stability in an otherwise dream

in her eyes reflections of the black forever sky
like the end of the world or at least my life -
at my feet a blue gasoline-striped puddle
suddenly gone to music and the stars
become audible tinkling from above
the rooftops onto which they are falling,
rolling bells bumping across shingles
dropping onto the stones below with the water
where it is pooling and the people are wet and
the grass is wet and there is sunset behind the trees but no stars.

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