Damian's car smelled like cat pee. So I felt right at home. I forgot the tickets and we had to go back to my house. Damian barely supressed his smoldering rage. I figured if I had to, I could take him. He eats alot of fast food, so he can't possibly be that healthy. I had been laying off the booze and giving myself leg and thigh massages and peptalks, so I thought this might be the time to go for it. Unfortunately, Damian did not attempt to strangle me. Not even the suggestion of homoerotic Greco Roman wrestling.
Finally we stood in line to enter the club with a few other sadly dejected dregs of humanity, all of whom were drooling and picking their noses. I decided at this point that I would get roaringly drunk, and attempt to hump Mick Jones' leg. This did not transpire, because Damian reminded me of how horrible I was at the Tyla show. Even I feel some small embarrassment when I misbehave to that degree. Also, an odd sense of pride. I don't get me.
Anyway opening band was godawful, I got drunk, then Mick and Tony's band, Carbon/Silicon, (a rather stupid name) came on. they were great. Much more live rocknroll than their album, which is great but can get a little studio-sterile sounding at times. The place was packed, everyone seemed to have a great time.
Then we got to meet them, yay! The only embarrassing thing I said to Mick was, "You're my Guitar Hero, heh heh, snort." he sort of rolled his eyes and smiled.
I slurred drunkenly to Tony James, something about his former sisters Of Mercy cohort Andrew Eldritch, and Tony seemed like he wanted to sprint as far away from me as he could. But he posed for this picture, where it looks like I am trying to finger his ass. Swear to god I wasn't. All pics by Damian, because my camera was dead.
So that was my encounter with Punk Rock Legend. You're next, Charlie Harper! Probably not.
