“I don’t think we’re gettin’ inside.” Spark a joint outside the Polish Sea League. Finally uncoverin’ the six year mystery of what the fuck this place is on Thursday night with Drew and Brendan. Tried to see Checker and Girl Fight. Ran into Sree. Missed both of ‘em. But ended up catchin’ Troy’s set at the Fowlin’ Warehouse at least. Best not to make a plan for Music Fest. Or Blowout. Whatever name they’re usin’. Same piss. Different pants. Anything to give an excuse to drinkin’ in an alley with the homies. Relivin’ juvenile delinquency. There goes Hentch as ya leave Detroit Threads. Passin’ by as ya hit a joint under the sign readin’ “BAKING COMPANY.” Kaleb laughs as you pass it.
KQ drags at the joint outside Sea League. First set of the night for him. Tried to make it out earlier. But long night last night. We tried catchin’ Corevalues at Bumbo’s earlier. Immediately pressed against the wall. Jo and Jack jammin’ on the Home Depot riff. Sree tryin’ to wheel a cab through the room. Every square inch filled with a body. Calm down. Try hittin’ the weed pen. Ya know how many rock n’ roll horror stories start this way? Don’t talk like that Kaleb. Drew’s gonna freak out. Listen to a song or two from outside before shovin’ off over here to try and see Cam.
“I gotta at least try to get in and see ‘em.” KQ tries breakin’ through the overflow of people in the doorway. Sounds of Zastava fill the air outside. Groups cluster on the street corners. Cops drive by slow to look over the miscreants chainsmokin’. Enjoyin’ the noise without bein’ smashed. Not even worth tryin’ to slip through to the back to see if the room with the pool table is open. Hit the spliff. Check my phone for the time. Gonna miss the Toeboys for 208. KC wanted to check out the Painted Lady. All the homies playin’ at the same time. Gonna be a night of sacrifices. Might not get to see Cam tonight. But at least I can hear ‘em from out here.
A text from Mom. “I need you to know that Joey isn’t doing well.”
Thirteen years ago. Alienated teenager. Lookin’ for a sense of connection. Convinced my mom to let us get a dog. This black lab, beagle mix. Named after a Ramone. What do ya expect from a middle schooler gettin’ into punk rock? The only other friends at the time was the music on my iPod. Isn’t that what attracts any of us to pets? To have a companion through the isolation. A friend without judgment. Givin’ nothin’ but unconditional love when we feel so fuckin’ alone that it just makes sense. Someone to show us how goddamn valuable it is just to sit and savor this time we have to be alive together.
Antonio hops up from the pool table at Painted Lady. Arms wrap around me. I can hear him last time I saw him at Outer. “I didn’t get to give ya a proper hug when I first saw ya!” How important it is to have friends that go outta their way to hug ya. Remind ya how goddamn valuable it is we have this time together. Finally startin’ to break through the years of emotional unavailability. The internal alienation and self-induced isolation. Wonder how many people are still doin’ blow outta vintage porno mag pages in the bathroom? It’d be nice if they still let ya smoke in here. Could use a cig inside with the incomin’ texts about my dog’s oncomin’ heart failure.
Drew is breakin’ all the rules tonight. Smokin’ weed and cigs with us outside. Since Em is in Vietnam. They laugh when Kaleb says this. As if Em would ever tell someone they couldn’t smoke grass. Hangin’ up the phone after Mom calls sobbin’. Gonna have to go over there tomorrow. Pet the dog for what might be the last time before the vet comes. “My dog is dyin’...” Kaleb gets up from the parking block. Hugs me as I hit my spliff. 208 should be startin’ soon. A nice dose of rock n’ roll feedback from your friends will help ya. “It ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive…” Been startin’ the mornin’ off listenin’ to Darkness on the Edge of Town. And the Boss is right. Your pets will tell ya the same thing. Nothin’ wrong with enjoyin’ life in spite of it all.
“Take ‘em off!” I yell to Kyle kickin’ his shoes off.
“We’ll get there.” He laughs.
“We got there way sooner than I thought…” Drew’s words wash away under the roar of guitar after Kyle strips the socks. Crouch down. Body draped over the speaker on the floor in front of the stage. Head bowed. Forehead on the stage wedge. Hits the riff. And then a wallop of noise as Shelby beats the drums in. Body seizin’ in time and rhythm. Head flailin’ around on my neck. Veins bulgin’ in Kyle’s throat. His clean, barefeet quickly turnin’ black. Jaw hangin’ open. Fuckin’ mesmerized. Guitar vibratin’ my whole jaw against the wedge. My ribcage rattles like Antonio’s guest tambourine. Shakin’ from the pulse of Shelby’s kick. Feel how the beat vibrates with your heartbeat. This is what sonically spiritual cleansing feels like.
“Cam!” I fall into their arms as I turn around and get off the floor. Post set. If you’re not fuckin’ floored after 208. Ya must’ve gone deaf. But ya should be both after. Just glad I got to see Cam tonight. “I saw you draped over the sonic altar.” Chucklin’ the words as they hold me. Hearin’ still temporarily blown out. Ribcage still vibratin’ from the altar.
“Sounds like Devo…” Kaleb jokes as Fen Fen starts inside Ghost Light. Had to shake him outside of Painted Lady to get rid of his hiccups. Rollin’ spliffs on the stoop as the final set of this year’s Blowout begins. Kaleb still wonderin’ how Shelby looks so sick and hypnotic when she plays drums. A roll of toilet paper flies back and forth over the crowd. Joey next to us gettin’ wrapped up like a mummy. Askin’ Jake to buy him a beer. Derek flailin’ around the pit startin’ in front of us. I may not have heard the Toeboys. But I got to see ‘em for a minute at least. “This is the first of three songs in our set about dogs…” Luke blurts into the mic. Jake arguin’ from his flyin’ V they need some songs about cats.
Dogs. Cats. Fuckin’ rats. Shit. I got a possum livin’ under my bathtub I’m startin’ to think of as a pet. It doesn’t matter. The bond between human and critter is sacred. The purest form of companionship. Showin’ us the importance of just fuckin’ bein’ there for the people we love. Where would ya be today without the love of a pet? The vet will say on Wednesday when we lay Joey to rest. Labs try to hide their pain to continue bein’ there for their people. Showin’ their commitment not to abandon us even as they stare Death in the eyes. Fluid in their lungs.
“Fuck!” Drop a glob of butter on the floor. Makin’ toaster waffles in the fryin’ pan for me and KC after Blowout. Talkin’ about mental health and the human need for unconditional love. And I realize I learned this method in 2017. Goin’ to a friend’s place after my first Hamtramck Music Fest. Shoutin’ “parkour” jumpin’ off the cinderblocks at the rumored Hamtramck McDonald’s. She made us all toaster waffles in the fryin’ pan. Try that shit out if ya haven’t. It’ll change your life. The same way seein’ Caveman and Bam Bam at Paycheck’s for Music Fest in 2017 changed mine. Makin’ me wanna call this city home. Where I’d meet some really far out people. Not only decoratin’ space and time and the whole damn continuum with art and music. But beautiful people that teach you the importance of companionship. Just fuckin’ bein’ there to enjoy this goddamn beautiful time together. Holdin’ each other when it feels like life is gettin’ blown out. That’s what this whole festival is about. Wanderin’ the Earth with your best homies and havin’ a beautiful fuckin’ weekend. Death starin’ in our eyes. Music in the air. Smoke in our lungs. Under the circle sky.