The Best-Laid Plans Of Punks And Poets
RebelMart @ Freddy’s Backroom
Blackout Shoppers/Yo! Scunt/Chesty Malone and the Slice ‘Em Ups
@ The Delancey
1/12/07
So I got the email Wednesday evening about the RebelMart gig. The Wednesday of. What, does he think it’s funny to watch me freak out about trying to figure out subway connections? And, dammit, I’ll be missing Chesty Malone & the Slice ‘Em Ups again. But I double-checked and Chesty was going on at 12:30 and if all goes well, I should be able to catch both RebelMart and Blackout Shoppers. But I’d have to miss F-Units. Besides, there was more warning for the Blackout Shoppers show.
“When did you get that email?”
“Wednesday night.”
“You know when I was confirmed for the gig? Wednesday afternoon.”
“Yeah, I thought so.”
I returned from the ladies’ room to overhear RebelMart and the kid in the band in the next slot discussing just how loud it gets in the Backroom.
“Yeah, I’ve played here a few times. . . .”
“On a scale of 1 to 10, how loud does the sound get in here?”
Well, the louder it gets, the more they don’t like it. . . .
“It’s not as loud as, say, The Bowery Ballroom. . . .”
Of course I know the answer, but since nobody asked me I try to figure the best way to answer and not make it look like I’m eavesdropping, which I am. That hardly matters, since I’ve got the right answer. I grab the schedule that’s on the table, turn it over, and write: It goes to 11!
“You know how some musicians start off with an old song because they’re comfortable with it? Well, not me,” he warned.
From the next band at the next table, as they worked on tuning a guitar: “Apparently, there was supposed to be an Irish punk band on the bill, but they never showed up. . . .”
Schoolhouse Rock was on the TV and that gave way to some 60s beach-party/surf’s up/Frankie Avalon/Annette Funicello flick. Everybody was doing the shag or the frug for 15 minutes straight. Even the woman in the Audrey Hepburn/Breakfast at Tiffany’s dress. It was literally like what Chris says when he tried to get everyone on the dance floor during Do It Again: It’s like the end of an old Elvis movie where even the stodgy old butler is getting down. And everyone ended up in the pool, of course, during the course of the movie. Then they showed everyone doing the shag in this cantina and there was this guy dancing barefoot and he steps on broken glass and the next thing you know, a fight breaks out. People start going headfirst through walls, headbutting each other. Ha ha, yeah, I’ve been to that show.
After RebelMart took the stage, as it were, I tried to prop up the It goes to 11! note on my glass of water, but I didn’t want to distract him (not like he was looking) and I didn’t want the other band to know I’m making fun of them. And though RebelMart said that his first song, Strength In Numbers, is new, the themes aren’t so new for him. It’s the last verse and chorus in particular that made me happy:
“If everyone hates these bastards so/Why do they rise while we sink low?/We can nail ‘em in the chest if we lead with a left/We can hit ‘em in the heart if we play our part/What happens to STRENGTH IN NUMBERS/When the numbers all run scared?/What happens to STRENGTH IN NUMBERS/When the numbers keep running scared?/What happens to STRENGTH IN NUMBERS/When the numbers all run scared?/What happens to STRENGTH IN NUMBERS?”
I was like, fuck yeah! And though I had the pix chosen for the review, RebelMart gave such a detailed intro for his song Morning of the 3rd—about his gig at Freddy’s the night of the presidential election. The TVs were on and everyone came in with such happy faces, but we were all glum as we left. What a blatant hint about which pix I should use, eh?
“And because I’m so self-absorbed, I took it personally.” (To which some guy yelled, “You suck!” Whoever it was, he sure was sarcastic.)
“You know, right before the Christmas recess, Congress passed—and this really flew under the radar—Congress passed the Musicians Responsibility And Burden Act of 2006, obligating all singer/songwriters to write a song about Hurricane Katrina. So here’s mine. I’d just like to add that Kanye doesn’t care about me.”
Shortly after he began The Devil Down In The Water, I looked up to see twin images of fire on the TVs. Next, people were fleeing. I thought it was pretty cool and I wanted to say something, to tell him to turn around and look at the TV, but I couldn’t interrupt and besides, I was sure someone was going to say something anyway. I don’t know who put on the movie, but it was in perfect sync with the lyrics. I don’t think it was one of Donald’s videos because he does the video art installations, but it was downright eerie. As RebelMart and the movie continued, I realized that the movie was some sort of B-rated Godzilla movie, and everyone was fleeing this Godzilla who was destroying a town. Godzilla kept throwing these barrels at the townspeople and I got the chills. Then I wondered if I was the only one who noticed this. I can’t be. As The Devil Down In The Water becomes the devil down in the White House (I didn’t really give away the ending since we weren’t exactly living on Mars), the movie had a scene of 3 people holding a barrel themselves and turning it on Godzilla, charging at him and hitting him in the chest. The song finished as someone on a hang glider sailed just above Godzilla’s head, just out of reach of his outstretched hand. (I’m teary again just thinking about it.)
Godzilla’s rampage continued through Brooklyn Is Dying, chasing the townspeople as he picked up houses at whim like they were Monopoly pieces. When Godzilla ended, the next movie on was some caveman movie. Again the film was started in a random place, but just as he started Garageland it was dark. The moon gave way to sun and the cavemen awoke. Godzilla was every destructive force—nature, George Bush, Bruce Ratner, and even the music industry and now that everything’s been destroyed, we will wake up and start over from the beginning. And though the original version of Garageland is kind of a ballad (well, a pogo-y ballad) and, playing it now as I write this, I can imagine a kickline going to The Clash version. The RebelMart version is tender, poignant, and primitive in the right way, almost a lullaby. And again, I don’t know how this happened, but as he closed with The Town That I Loved So Well, the caveman movie came to a close and The End came on screen and he finished the song in perfect time to the movie.
I wasn’t sure how to get to The Delancey—or even Delancey—from Freddy’s. I was thinking the D to W4 and the F, or the J/M, but the J/M doesn’t run at night and the F was rerouted. I’d have to remember that. I decided on the R to Canal to the J/M, but as soon as I settled on that, I realized the problem. The R is extremely local. Holy shit, just going one stop to DeKalb was a pain. But the Q came quickly at DeKalb and I was making good time until Canal. I looked on the map to see which side I’d need and the You Are Here arrow pointed to Chambers. Huh? It wasn’t one of those stations where the upstairs is one station and the downstairs is another. But the reverse side was correct. Shit, the wait at Canal fucked everything up so bad. But I figured 11:15 for an 11:00 time slot wasn’t that bad and besides, since when is 11 actually 11? Besides, it’s a Frank Wood show so he’ll be introducing band members in between sets, asking when their next gig is, and reminding everyone to tip our bartender, tip her heavy, tip her often, tip her over with cash.
As I stood in the stairway and paid my fare, I was surprised to hear the 80s song coming from the upstairs bar because I knew what was going on downstairs, and I didn’t know people still listened to that song. And by the time I got downstairs to find that the Blackout Shoppers were already onstage, I’d completely forgotten which song was on upstairs. Of course I took that phenomenon as commentary on the 80s song—and all songs from the 80s—and not a sign of my Alzheimer’s. It could be the latter, because it was a popular song that we’ve all heard of. Still, I found my explanation returning to the social commentary of 80s music and the upstairs of The Delancey.
Though when the Shoppers ripped into their cover of Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue it was more than all-too-easy to focus. I pogoed and landed on Christine’s foot. She didn’t notice. It turns out I missed pretty much all their set (dammit) because Everything’s Going Wrong was after that and I found Justin at that moment and we got quite the kickline going, pushing everyone out of our way, and I ended up getting a Pabst shower and my hair was sticky and it was awesome. There was a DJ spinning and you know me. If I had the chance, blah blah. But this was our dance party so dance I did.
I knew something was up by his hair. It came to a trendy/ironic/retro ducktail in the back, tho I was digging the skulls and crossbones with the googlie eyes on his T. The girl he was with was Barbie in Skipper’s clothes and moved like she was either trying to pat herself on the butt or clear away cobwebs. Every time they came onto the floor, they cleared it. They fought the law of gravity and the law of gravity won, falling in a heap at my feet a few times, and then fell at the foot of the stage. I then figured maybe they got off not on public displays of affection but some sort of public displays of S&M activity. A bra hits the stage shortly after Yo! Scunt does, but I think it might’ve belonged to one of their friends doing it to be funny. At one point the guy tackled Hot Topic Barbie to the floor, grabbed her by the foot, and swung her around as she paddled herself in circles. Then they wrestled in front of the stage. Now, the show was 21+ so I assume they came up on emo. See, this is the problem with shitty music. Kids go to shows and don’t know how to behave.
Justin resurfaces shortly after this little spectacle and I tell him, “Its times like this that I’m glad I’m a writer.”
“As opposed to what?”
“As opposed to letting all this hilarity go to waste,” I say without skipping a beat.
They dropkick an empty bottle of Vitamin Water and what would’ve been cool is if there was a spotlight following it and that zooming noise as it plonked me in the head. Toward the end of Yo! Scunt’s set I remembered that my coat and bag were across the room and then I notice a girl sitting on the couch next to my coat, crying. Fuck. I want to move my stuff and I don’t want to have to talk to the crier. Though I kind of want to know what the hell she’s crying about, I don’t care. Give me a break. You’re at a punk show. You’re going to get hurt. Get over it. (Yeah, classic, I get dinged in the head by an empty plastic bottle and I’m all, I got hurt at a punk show! I’m so badass! Woo! I’m punk rock! I’m hardcore! No, my nose was burning after that happened, so I am, thank you very much.) Then Emo Barbie and Ken notice The Crier and go over to attend to her and I figured it was the usual I didn’t want to come to this stupid club in the first place but I did because you guys wanted to and now you’re ignoring me! crap.
After Trish showed up I had more people to dance with. We spun around to Janie Jones, even though I think you’re not supposed to do that do that song, until that scary moment when I either kicked up the corner of the carpet or we almost became airborne and then I was back on my own even though with my back, it probably wasn’t a good idea but I didn’t care. Nor did I care that I was on my own. I never care about the latter. Or, come to think of it, the former.
Chesty Malone and the Slice ‘Em Ups has a song about Digging Up A Date—that’s probably what I’m going to need to do. Badass psychobilly punk influenced by “blood, guts, punk rock, beer, and kitties.” Jacqueline Blownaparte had plenty extra blood to go around. Seth ended up with it. (There’s gonna be blood on the Shoppers, whoa-oh-oh-oh, there’s gonna be blood. . . .)
And it turns out that though RebelMart went to eleven in intensity but not in time, there was a band that didn’t show up so we’re both off the hook. That guy who’s always at Shoppers and Stackers shows has a band. I think they were called New Damage, and since I always see him at shows I stayed for his band. Outside, Trish and some guy who was there but upstairs were trying to find a light. I waited with her while she waited for Justin so we had some time to talk—as did the upstairs guy. He’d just arrived from California and was all oversized sweater and hair gel. He seemed amazed that I’m “from here.” We were just standing there, looking at him like he was crazy. Then, perhaps to both of us, he said, “Throw it up!” and raised his hand. I was like, Throw what up? Am I supposed to make some hand gesture? Wait, which one of us is the Bloods and which is the Crips? “Are you coming back inside?” We were like hells no, but he didn’t seem to catch that. “I’ll see you both inside!”
When Justin came up Richie Rheingold did as well and we got to talking and wondering if you could roast marshmallows in the fireplace (I dare someone to try), I heard it, from inside the upstairs. The very song I arrived to. A Wham! song. Not Careless Whisper or Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go), but the other one. (Which I have since forgotten yet again and while I could look it up the point is that I’m not going to.)
Of course when I got to Jackson Heights they said the F was going local. This was not the case. I get to 71st to find that . . . nothing Manhattan-bound was going local. I had to go back to Jackson Heights, right back where I started from, to wait around for an E. What can I say, at very early hours of the morning, especially after a punk show, “Next stop, Elmhurst” and “Next stop, 71st” sound the same. Though the sound in the subway is really fucked up. Where’s the sound guy when you need him?
***
Look, closing CBGB™ is one thing, but knocking down a bar/venue in Brooklyn for a sports arena? What?! If you're not that familiar with the ongoing Nets Arena battle, there’s a very informative website (that’s not pink) run by a sports fan called Fans For Fair Play that explains everything, and has links to other organizations, such as Develop--Don't Destroy Brooklyn. (Sorry, I was trying to link to them til 2 AM this morning. 1st I kept getting something about input file not found, tonight it's this page can't be displayed but from there they give you a link you can get it from. Needless to say, I'm the dummy those books warn you about. But it's developdontdestroy.org, so copy + paste. Don't I do enough here, seeing all these shows on my own buck, letting you know about cool bands, and since I thought it might be my computer--holy fuck, I've just spent $13.98 at Stinko's. Bite me.) It’s okay if you’re not that big a sports fan, you just have to be a fan of Brooklyn.
***
RebelMart
+ Blackout Shoppers
=======>
Blackout Shoppers/Yo! Scunt/Chesty Malone and the Slice ‘Em Ups
@ The Delancey
1/12/07
So I got the email Wednesday evening about the RebelMart gig. The Wednesday of. What, does he think it’s funny to watch me freak out about trying to figure out subway connections? And, dammit, I’ll be missing Chesty Malone & the Slice ‘Em Ups again. But I double-checked and Chesty was going on at 12:30 and if all goes well, I should be able to catch both RebelMart and Blackout Shoppers. But I’d have to miss F-Units. Besides, there was more warning for the Blackout Shoppers show.
“When did you get that email?”
“Wednesday night.”
“You know when I was confirmed for the gig? Wednesday afternoon.”
“Yeah, I thought so.”
I returned from the ladies’ room to overhear RebelMart and the kid in the band in the next slot discussing just how loud it gets in the Backroom.
“Yeah, I’ve played here a few times. . . .”
“On a scale of 1 to 10, how loud does the sound get in here?”
Well, the louder it gets, the more they don’t like it. . . .
“It’s not as loud as, say, The Bowery Ballroom. . . .”
Of course I know the answer, but since nobody asked me I try to figure the best way to answer and not make it look like I’m eavesdropping, which I am. That hardly matters, since I’ve got the right answer. I grab the schedule that’s on the table, turn it over, and write: It goes to 11!
“You know how some musicians start off with an old song because they’re comfortable with it? Well, not me,” he warned.
From the next band at the next table, as they worked on tuning a guitar: “Apparently, there was supposed to be an Irish punk band on the bill, but they never showed up. . . .”
Schoolhouse Rock was on the TV and that gave way to some 60s beach-party/surf’s up/Frankie Avalon/Annette Funicello flick. Everybody was doing the shag or the frug for 15 minutes straight. Even the woman in the Audrey Hepburn/Breakfast at Tiffany’s dress. It was literally like what Chris says when he tried to get everyone on the dance floor during Do It Again: It’s like the end of an old Elvis movie where even the stodgy old butler is getting down. And everyone ended up in the pool, of course, during the course of the movie. Then they showed everyone doing the shag in this cantina and there was this guy dancing barefoot and he steps on broken glass and the next thing you know, a fight breaks out. People start going headfirst through walls, headbutting each other. Ha ha, yeah, I’ve been to that show.
After RebelMart took the stage, as it were, I tried to prop up the It goes to 11! note on my glass of water, but I didn’t want to distract him (not like he was looking) and I didn’t want the other band to know I’m making fun of them. And though RebelMart said that his first song, Strength In Numbers, is new, the themes aren’t so new for him. It’s the last verse and chorus in particular that made me happy:
“If everyone hates these bastards so/Why do they rise while we sink low?/We can nail ‘em in the chest if we lead with a left/We can hit ‘em in the heart if we play our part/What happens to STRENGTH IN NUMBERS/When the numbers all run scared?/What happens to STRENGTH IN NUMBERS/When the numbers keep running scared?/What happens to STRENGTH IN NUMBERS/When the numbers all run scared?/What happens to STRENGTH IN NUMBERS?”
I was like, fuck yeah! And though I had the pix chosen for the review, RebelMart gave such a detailed intro for his song Morning of the 3rd—about his gig at Freddy’s the night of the presidential election. The TVs were on and everyone came in with such happy faces, but we were all glum as we left. What a blatant hint about which pix I should use, eh?
“And because I’m so self-absorbed, I took it personally.” (To which some guy yelled, “You suck!” Whoever it was, he sure was sarcastic.)“You know, right before the Christmas recess, Congress passed—and this really flew under the radar—Congress passed the Musicians Responsibility And Burden Act of 2006, obligating all singer/songwriters to write a song about Hurricane Katrina. So here’s mine. I’d just like to add that Kanye doesn’t care about me.”
Shortly after he began The Devil Down In The Water, I looked up to see twin images of fire on the TVs. Next, people were fleeing. I thought it was pretty cool and I wanted to say something, to tell him to turn around and look at the TV, but I couldn’t interrupt and besides, I was sure someone was going to say something anyway. I don’t know who put on the movie, but it was in perfect sync with the lyrics. I don’t think it was one of Donald’s videos because he does the video art installations, but it was downright eerie. As RebelMart and the movie continued, I realized that the movie was some sort of B-rated Godzilla movie, and everyone was fleeing this Godzilla who was destroying a town. Godzilla kept throwing these barrels at the townspeople and I got the chills. Then I wondered if I was the only one who noticed this. I can’t be. As The Devil Down In The Water becomes the devil down in the White House (I didn’t really give away the ending since we weren’t exactly living on Mars), the movie had a scene of 3 people holding a barrel themselves and turning it on Godzilla, charging at him and hitting him in the chest. The song finished as someone on a hang glider sailed just above Godzilla’s head, just out of reach of his outstretched hand. (I’m teary again just thinking about it.)
Godzilla’s rampage continued through Brooklyn Is Dying, chasing the townspeople as he picked up houses at whim like they were Monopoly pieces. When Godzilla ended, the next movie on was some caveman movie. Again the film was started in a random place, but just as he started Garageland it was dark. The moon gave way to sun and the cavemen awoke. Godzilla was every destructive force—nature, George Bush, Bruce Ratner, and even the music industry and now that everything’s been destroyed, we will wake up and start over from the beginning. And though the original version of Garageland is kind of a ballad (well, a pogo-y ballad) and, playing it now as I write this, I can imagine a kickline going to The Clash version. The RebelMart version is tender, poignant, and primitive in the right way, almost a lullaby. And again, I don’t know how this happened, but as he closed with The Town That I Loved So Well, the caveman movie came to a close and The End came on screen and he finished the song in perfect time to the movie.
I wasn’t sure how to get to The Delancey—or even Delancey—from Freddy’s. I was thinking the D to W4 and the F, or the J/M, but the J/M doesn’t run at night and the F was rerouted. I’d have to remember that. I decided on the R to Canal to the J/M, but as soon as I settled on that, I realized the problem. The R is extremely local. Holy shit, just going one stop to DeKalb was a pain. But the Q came quickly at DeKalb and I was making good time until Canal. I looked on the map to see which side I’d need and the You Are Here arrow pointed to Chambers. Huh? It wasn’t one of those stations where the upstairs is one station and the downstairs is another. But the reverse side was correct. Shit, the wait at Canal fucked everything up so bad. But I figured 11:15 for an 11:00 time slot wasn’t that bad and besides, since when is 11 actually 11? Besides, it’s a Frank Wood show so he’ll be introducing band members in between sets, asking when their next gig is, and reminding everyone to tip our bartender, tip her heavy, tip her often, tip her over with cash.
As I stood in the stairway and paid my fare, I was surprised to hear the 80s song coming from the upstairs bar because I knew what was going on downstairs, and I didn’t know people still listened to that song. And by the time I got downstairs to find that the Blackout Shoppers were already onstage, I’d completely forgotten which song was on upstairs. Of course I took that phenomenon as commentary on the 80s song—and all songs from the 80s—and not a sign of my Alzheimer’s. It could be the latter, because it was a popular song that we’ve all heard of. Still, I found my explanation returning to the social commentary of 80s music and the upstairs of The Delancey.
Though when the Shoppers ripped into their cover of Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue it was more than all-too-easy to focus. I pogoed and landed on Christine’s foot. She didn’t notice. It turns out I missed pretty much all their set (dammit) because Everything’s Going Wrong was after that and I found Justin at that moment and we got quite the kickline going, pushing everyone out of our way, and I ended up getting a Pabst shower and my hair was sticky and it was awesome. There was a DJ spinning and you know me. If I had the chance, blah blah. But this was our dance party so dance I did.
I knew something was up by his hair. It came to a trendy/ironic/retro ducktail in the back, tho I was digging the skulls and crossbones with the googlie eyes on his T. The girl he was with was Barbie in Skipper’s clothes and moved like she was either trying to pat herself on the butt or clear away cobwebs. Every time they came onto the floor, they cleared it. They fought the law of gravity and the law of gravity won, falling in a heap at my feet a few times, and then fell at the foot of the stage. I then figured maybe they got off not on public displays of affection but some sort of public displays of S&M activity. A bra hits the stage shortly after Yo! Scunt does, but I think it might’ve belonged to one of their friends doing it to be funny. At one point the guy tackled Hot Topic Barbie to the floor, grabbed her by the foot, and swung her around as she paddled herself in circles. Then they wrestled in front of the stage. Now, the show was 21+ so I assume they came up on emo. See, this is the problem with shitty music. Kids go to shows and don’t know how to behave.
Justin resurfaces shortly after this little spectacle and I tell him, “Its times like this that I’m glad I’m a writer.”
“As opposed to what?”
“As opposed to letting all this hilarity go to waste,” I say without skipping a beat.
They dropkick an empty bottle of Vitamin Water and what would’ve been cool is if there was a spotlight following it and that zooming noise as it plonked me in the head. Toward the end of Yo! Scunt’s set I remembered that my coat and bag were across the room and then I notice a girl sitting on the couch next to my coat, crying. Fuck. I want to move my stuff and I don’t want to have to talk to the crier. Though I kind of want to know what the hell she’s crying about, I don’t care. Give me a break. You’re at a punk show. You’re going to get hurt. Get over it. (Yeah, classic, I get dinged in the head by an empty plastic bottle and I’m all, I got hurt at a punk show! I’m so badass! Woo! I’m punk rock! I’m hardcore! No, my nose was burning after that happened, so I am, thank you very much.) Then Emo Barbie and Ken notice The Crier and go over to attend to her and I figured it was the usual I didn’t want to come to this stupid club in the first place but I did because you guys wanted to and now you’re ignoring me! crap.
After Trish showed up I had more people to dance with. We spun around to Janie Jones, even though I think you’re not supposed to do that do that song, until that scary moment when I either kicked up the corner of the carpet or we almost became airborne and then I was back on my own even though with my back, it probably wasn’t a good idea but I didn’t care. Nor did I care that I was on my own. I never care about the latter. Or, come to think of it, the former.
Chesty Malone and the Slice ‘Em Ups has a song about Digging Up A Date—that’s probably what I’m going to need to do. Badass psychobilly punk influenced by “blood, guts, punk rock, beer, and kitties.” Jacqueline Blownaparte had plenty extra blood to go around. Seth ended up with it. (There’s gonna be blood on the Shoppers, whoa-oh-oh-oh, there’s gonna be blood. . . .)
And it turns out that though RebelMart went to eleven in intensity but not in time, there was a band that didn’t show up so we’re both off the hook. That guy who’s always at Shoppers and Stackers shows has a band. I think they were called New Damage, and since I always see him at shows I stayed for his band. Outside, Trish and some guy who was there but upstairs were trying to find a light. I waited with her while she waited for Justin so we had some time to talk—as did the upstairs guy. He’d just arrived from California and was all oversized sweater and hair gel. He seemed amazed that I’m “from here.” We were just standing there, looking at him like he was crazy. Then, perhaps to both of us, he said, “Throw it up!” and raised his hand. I was like, Throw what up? Am I supposed to make some hand gesture? Wait, which one of us is the Bloods and which is the Crips? “Are you coming back inside?” We were like hells no, but he didn’t seem to catch that. “I’ll see you both inside!”
When Justin came up Richie Rheingold did as well and we got to talking and wondering if you could roast marshmallows in the fireplace (I dare someone to try), I heard it, from inside the upstairs. The very song I arrived to. A Wham! song. Not Careless Whisper or Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go), but the other one. (Which I have since forgotten yet again and while I could look it up the point is that I’m not going to.)
Of course when I got to Jackson Heights they said the F was going local. This was not the case. I get to 71st to find that . . . nothing Manhattan-bound was going local. I had to go back to Jackson Heights, right back where I started from, to wait around for an E. What can I say, at very early hours of the morning, especially after a punk show, “Next stop, Elmhurst” and “Next stop, 71st” sound the same. Though the sound in the subway is really fucked up. Where’s the sound guy when you need him?
***
Look, closing CBGB™ is one thing, but knocking down a bar/venue in Brooklyn for a sports arena? What?! If you're not that familiar with the ongoing Nets Arena battle, there’s a very informative website (that’s not pink) run by a sports fan called Fans For Fair Play that explains everything, and has links to other organizations, such as Develop--Don't Destroy Brooklyn. (Sorry, I was trying to link to them til 2 AM this morning. 1st I kept getting something about input file not found, tonight it's this page can't be displayed but from there they give you a link you can get it from. Needless to say, I'm the dummy those books warn you about. But it's developdontdestroy.org, so copy + paste. Don't I do enough here, seeing all these shows on my own buck, letting you know about cool bands, and since I thought it might be my computer--holy fuck, I've just spent $13.98 at Stinko's. Bite me.) It’s okay if you’re not that big a sports fan, you just have to be a fan of Brooklyn.
***
RebelMart + Blackout Shoppers
=======>
posted by heather @ 8:55 PM
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