I went to see the Buried Beds play at a bar called Kung Fu Necktie. I used to live on Howard Street. I lived one block from that bar. I'm not ready to see some of the people who live over there, and I cussed at Dave to fucking move when he parked directly in front of my former front door. "A block up, a block up, goddamn it!"
I didn't realize how tense I am about it. Feelings can really get boiling when you see snapshots of a different time. And it was still so recent. And they still have my rice cooker.
The Buried Beds are a band that is awesome. I've liked them for a long time, but I haven't seen them play in a couple years. They're better now. I had a fantastic time, and I'm happy that one of the guys is going to be my new roommate. We've met before - he's great - and now I won't need to worry that my rent will go up.
I talked to Dave and had pizza with him and his friend. I was glad he was driving, because I was not able to pilot anything with wheels.