the superstars were out last night in hollywood

did you see them? there was winona and dorothy, spiderman and heidi, anna nicole and bobby trendy, there were sluts and pimps, 80s chicks and 60s mods.

everyone drove their silver shifters to the lava lounge on labrea last night to take in the dulcet sounds of americas number one rock group tsar.

and no one left disappointed.

basart and my attorney and shannon and this girl who works at the beverly hills starbucks met at el compadre for flaming moes and burritos pre show, then i picked up karisa and we jetted to the show and found tsar backstage drinking krystal and complaining because their m&m’s hadn’t been sorted.

the boys looked terrific and were gracious hosts as the backstage area slowly filled with the likes of moxie, ted danson, tv’s ed bagley jr., and jeweler to the stars, my exgirl jeanine.

moxie, by the way looked radiant, dressed in black, skin so elegantly pale that her blond locks glistened in comparasion under the stars of the backstage smoking area. is there anything cooler than a single girl arriving in a porsche and tossing the keys to the valet after they have opened the door?

perhaps.

the lava lounge isn’t built for rock history and im sure in the future people will look back at all hallows eve and say “how on earth did the mighty Tsar play such a teensy place like this?”

if any of you are old enough to remember the classic alex cox film Repo Man, theres a scene where the Circle Jerks are squeezed on a tiny stage in a small bar. crank up the heat, put witch hats on os and ali and jeanine and paolo and you might get the gist.

the lovely simone was there in a shirt that was ripped in all the right places and i wanted to look closer but no matter what i do theres still a catholic boy stuck in me so i blushed and ordered a pair of kamikazes for karisa and i.

many men dressed as ugly women bobbed their heads to the new tunes. i even saw a guy who dressed like the white stripes but did not look as good as i will look for he did the white shirt red pants thing which is way too easy. mine will be all red.

dylan was there trying to hide behind glasses and a fake beard but disguises don’t mean nothing we know who’s inside.

tsar played old tunes fast tunes, slow tunes.

because the lava lounge isn’t used to rock shows they made the boys keep it down which was like weird. i found myself uncomfortable hearing all the lyrics. as clever as they were i wanted more guitars, more noise, more feedback. more curtain less wizard. whalen was showing all his secrets and there are so many more sonic youth notes in a dan kern solo that were trapped in the marshall half stack restrained at 2 that all we heard were the major ones, which did the trick and impressed starbucks girl but so much depends on the red rockbarrell filled with fuck for the chickens.

give me decibels or give me death.

this was nearly an mtv unplugged event but i’ll take anything i can from these fine young fellows who i am proud to call my friends.

we all left drunk and happy and satisfied but wanting.

heidi walked outside, pulled a marlboro from behind a pigtail and dug around her bag and a pudgy spiderman tapped her shoulder and lit her up and we all drifted back to our mansions and penthouse suites happy little pollywogs, warm, buzzed, and giggly.

anorexorcism

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