. broken glass, broken glass.

Last night was pretty awesome.

Me and Christopher Jardin biked downtown at warpspeed in order to attend a punk/hardcore show at Sneaky Dee's. Listen, I wasn't wearing the uniform for that kind of show, I looked like a total hippie. Jesus tee and all.
By the end of the show, I had blood on my Jesus tee (not mine), wicked bruises across both thighs, one pair of busted glasses, and one semi-black eye. It's not a really bad black eye, it just looks like my left eye hasn't slept in days.
When the bands started playing, felt strangely sucked into the moshpit. I forgot to take off my glasses. That was fine for the first two bands, but the third one was the killing kind- the kind that throws beer on the crowd, takes off their clothes, and throws themselves into the crowd. I think I solely held the lead singer three or four times. The stage was only knee high, which gave the added element of fear for a busted set of patella, should the crowd throw you the wrong way.
So the crowd surfers were pretty out of hand. Kamikaze, I swear, because they were jumping directly into this suckerpunch of a mosh pit/my face. The busted glasses and blackish eye happened when a Doc marten landed in left eye socket. my glasses fell to the floor, and I gave them up for lost. Chris jardin got elbowed super hard in the nose, but he found my glasses in the scuffle. The arm was broken off, but miraculously, the lenses don't have a scratch on them.
Now I'm sore. But it was sweet to hang with Chris, and sweeter to sleep like a baby afterward.
punk may be better therapy than I had previously thought.