Blogging on Meds

(Kanye in egg, flanked by space sluts)

This isn’t a show review, I’m just professing my love for this city.

At 9:45 pm last night I was bummed because I was stuck downtown for work, at some shitty show I didn’t need to be at but had to meet with a promoter for, my allergies were on fire, I was starving, I had homework to do, and I was going to miss seeing Negative Approach play out in Brooklyn.

At 9:55 pm I got a text from Ray to come to a party, so I hopped in a cab and figured I’d make the best of the night, or at least get angry drunk.
At 10:00 pm I got another text telling me to hurry, as Kanye was about to go on.  Kanye?

At 10:05 pm I bullshitted my way  through security, and walked up a red carpet into a giant space under the Queensboro Bridge, built around its arches with huge ceilings that had a Burton-era Batman feel, only filled with 1500 hip dudes and hot chicks with glow necklaces on.  Grabbed two giant bourbons from the open bar, and walked up front to watch Kanye West perform 45 minutes of greatness.  He spent 90% of the time sitting in a futuristic egg chair with his LED shades on, and had a dance team of super hot naked chicks with space helmets on through half the set. My mood had officially been altered, and it wasn’t the bourbon.

I’ve spent time in every major city in the western world, and New York City is the only one where, on a Wednesday night -in a timespan of 20 minutes- you can go from angry- “I’m about to get all Grand Theft Auto on someone”-dude to ecstatic-”I don’t deserve this good of a life”-guy.

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