My first punk show

This week's musings and poem

I went to my very first punk show at the Mayday Space in Bushwick, Brooklyn. I was very close to not going. It was raining. I hate being outside in the rain which always surprises me because I like to think of myself as a whimsical fairy. Apparently I’m not the type of fairy that likes to dance in the rain.

Also, I live in Flatbush. Traveling from Flatbush to Bushwick is awful. Traveling from southern Brooklyn to northern Brooklyn is pretty much the root canals of commuting. Either you have to go through Manhattan or take multiple trains or buses. I refuse to go through Manhattan to come back to Brooklyn. I simply refuse. Even if it takes me longer, my sanity, and three buggies, I will not go to Manhattan to come back to Brooklyn!

The reason why it’s impossible to get from southern Brooklyn to northern Brooklyn is that the subway was built to serve Manhattan. To shuttle the peasants from Brooklyn to work in the evil center of the empire. Okay I don’t know this part for sure, I haven’t read any research to back it up but it feels like that. I think you’d agree with me though if you looked at this map.

Anyway, we left my apartment with my broken but mostly functional umbrella. Took the 2 train to the 3 train to the L train. Found a wine and liquor store to buy booze to take to the show. Yes, that’s the cool thing about DIY spaces. You can bring your own booze. They don’t care about having a monopoly on food or drinks so they can charge you 20 dollars for a tall can of beer. I went to a Mets game once and almost chose to suffer baseball in sobriety. I paid for the beer because I can’t watch baseball sober. Who can?