Just got back from Nocturne. Aside from their usual strange gothic industrial music, I heard the familiar reassuring strains of Peter Murphy’s ”Cuts You Up” and Marilyn Manson’s ”Fight Song.” The latter has wacky lyrics as most Manson songs do. Here’s a sample stanza to prove my point:


You’ll never grow up to be a big rock star
Celebrated victim of your fame
Just cut our wrists like cheap coupons
And say that “death was on sale today”


Well… isn’t that special? If you hear it with the melody I’m sure you’d appreciate it more. No, really. Tonight was different from last Wednesday in that they had a mosh pit going for about 30 minutes. For 20 minutes there were ugly guys moshing and bashing. For 5 minutes there were hot sweaty girls moshing and bashing. For the last 5 minutes there was supposed to be guys and girls moshing together, but it was mostly guys. Wah. The DJ then dug out a Shirley Manson Garbage album and the We Must Now Mosh spotlights were darkened for the remainder of the evening.


I talked to two people. One was some dude who wanted to know if this group of people were holding a paint gun. Yes they were. I have no idea why, so I just left abruptly. The other person I spoke with was shaking the crap out of her friend’s head. This poor girl was obviously out of it while sitting down on a short staircase. Her moron friend was shaking her head like it was a pinata. Rather than just sit there and watch this nit-wit administer whip-lash to her friend (like everyone else was), I walked over and made some inquiries. Drugs? No — drunk. I was like, ”STOP SHAKING HER HEAD!” and she was like ”I’VE NEVER BEEN DRUNK BEFORE” and I was like ”TRUST ME — SHAKING THE HEAD DOES NOT MAKE SOMEONE LESS DRUNK.” I gave a few more tips. They stood up and Drunk Girl was fine, just a bit wobbly. The rest of the evening was uneventful. Some car honked their horn at me while I was walking back to my condo. I was like, ”Yeah, yeah… you can look but don’t touch.” Riiight.