Who’s playing tonight?
Well, I’m sitting here on the floor of the Crocodile Cafe. People were walking by the club, trying to figure out what band was playing tonight – there is no indication on the windows that there is even a show tonight; no posters or anything. Let me clarify that; there are pictures and poster up for every other show except ours. That really worries me; I really want people to come to this show! I mean, it’s SEATTLE! So I finally took it upon myself to put one of our posters that we stole from another club up on the window, so at least people’d know what was going on tonight. Now people stop me and ask me what kind of music we play, which startles me. The hip-guy area around the Crocodile Club looks so familiar to me that I figured I’d look familiar to it (and its inhabitants), but nobody on the street has heard of us yet. It’s strange the places we get recognized. In the middle of Missoula MT, people will come up to us and go, “Hey, aren’t you Poster Children?!! WOW! Are you playing here?” But Seattle, forget it.
We tell questioning Seattle-ites that we play “post-wave” music, a phrase we just coined to describe ourselves for this record, but they are too hip to fall for it – they just look at me and say, “What’s that?” instead of going, “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of that.”
Peter Buck Patrol
I heard a rumor that Peter Buck (from REM)’s girlfriend owns this club, so I am sitting around, waiting to catch a glimpse of him. He has come to our shows before, and I have met him before. Actually, now that I think about it, he’s going to have to be a pretty special guy to show up here tonight since I think REM is playing shows in Australia right now. Oh well. Maybe some of the SubPop people will show up. Anyone could show up tonight; there are so many rockstars in Seattle. The only show we’re playing against is Siouxie and the Banshees, as far as I know. Oh- and Tsunami is playing across town, without us. Damn.
Kill ’em and Eat ’em
Gas station woman who accused us of not paying for gas has been dealt with. Seems she’ll be confined to an unknown dimension for a finite number of years to be determined later. No one has ever accused us of stealing gas. She asked us to come back into the station and we pulled out our receipt and waved it in her face. She was sorry. She will be sorrier. HAHAHAHA…