![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
First impressions
Jun. 25th, 2001 03:23 amWell. It was a radiohead concert. They're everything you would expect them to be. I guess I should be proud or happy. After 2 hours of driving, 3 hours of sitting, over 3 hours of concert, (most of it the uber-depressing, aforementioned RH), followed by an hour of driving, 25 minutes of lostness and 2 more hours driving, let's just say that those funny little lane markers are kind of cool if you drive over them enough, they start to have rhythm and then you go oh, I should be in my lane, 'cause that's radiohead's tour bus next to me, and it's big and green, like a big wet green slug going 80 in the rain and sliming my windsheild. Wave happy at the slu^H^H^H band, now. Won't that be nice. Wonder if we can catch up. No, we're hydroplaning at 78 and they're dusting us in that thing. Creip.
It was pretty, though.........
I've got street spirit but I might be wrong, so sing the national anthem with your knives out and chase the karma police and sic the paraniod android on them before they show you how to dissappear completely by climbing up the walls of a crushd tin box to put everything in its right place, while you and whose army cue the exit music at the idioteque whose cover charge (in dollars and cents) is exactly how much it costs to build a pyramid, which you could write a song about then ring the morning bell to summon the town in their airbag-equipped hondas that they bought to guarantee there'd be no surprises on the dash (though the mechanic's in limbo) but if they tolerate that their children will be next - but only if they're lucky.
It was pretty, though.........
I've got street spirit but I might be wrong, so sing the national anthem with your knives out and chase the karma police and sic the paraniod android on them before they show you how to dissappear completely by climbing up the walls of a crushd tin box to put everything in its right place, while you and whose army cue the exit music at the idioteque whose cover charge (in dollars and cents) is exactly how much it costs to build a pyramid, which you could write a song about then ring the morning bell to summon the town in their airbag-equipped hondas that they bought to guarantee there'd be no surprises on the dash (though the mechanic's in limbo) but if they tolerate that their children will be next - but only if they're lucky.
