5.05.2004

Yet another reason I'm a dork

Welcome to Morrissey week, his self-proclaimed celibacy makes him relevant. This is another post about the show on Monday and I'm seeing him again tomorrow.

I am so ashamed. As my friend and I were going through security at the Apollo we could hear the opening band. My friend said, "That sounds like the New York Dolls." I agreed. When we found our seats, I looked onto the stage and saw a bedraggled, thin, old worn out guy in shades singing. Steff leaned over and said, "That REALLY sounds like the New York Dolls." I agreed then looked at the raggedy man on stage. He had to be in his late 40s-50s. He looked like David Johansen. What kind of 50-something yr old man makes it a career to impersonate him? I wondered if perhaps that was the real guy . . . Nah, no way!

Steff called me today with the news: The opening act for Morrissey on Monday was David Johansen (aka Buster Poindexter) of the New York Dolls. Duh! Morrissey was president of the New York Dolls fan club in Manchester for a time. He has also scheduled a New York Dolls reunion for a festival he is curating. My friend and I both knew this. But we didn't put it together. Even though we were in New York. Even though Johansen certainly does not have a busy tour schedule. (Sadly, he might have a day job.) I'm going early tomorrow so I can see his whole set. He doesn't look like he has too many years left in him.

Steff said that now she can die and go to punk heaven. I feel conflicted. I never saw the Ramones, so I'm not ready to go to punk heaven; but Joey is already there. If I died and went to punk heaven, would I get to see Joey Ramone perform? If so, then it makes sense for me to go punk heaven. But I wonder if he can he sing without the whole band? Probably not. What's a punk rock girl to do?

If I was getting some kind of action, would any of this matter? If a tree falls in the woods. . . . sigh

Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetically hilarious exploits of me not having sex in the city.

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