LIVE AT THE FILLMORE
Well, hey there! How were your holidays? Do anything awesome? Oh yeah? Did you catch him? Yeah, I doubt a piece of string running from your pillow to your stocking with a bell on it is going to catch a stealthy guy like Santa Clause. What do you mean you had a backup plan? Dude, you installed motion detecters and a flame thrower? That’s messed up. Were you trying to kill the guy? Well, why would you roast him if you’re just trying to prove he exists? You’re NUTS, man. NUTS.
– as a side note: I know these intros are pretty stupid and getting longer, but this one had some truth to it. When I was a kid I actually ran a string from my pillow to my stocking downstairs and attached a bell near my head, so when Santa touched my stocking it would ring the bell and wake me up. My mom actually snuck up the stairs, picked up the bell, and aggressively started ringing it in my face that night. I was absolutely too heavy a sleeper. I had no chance of waking up.
So, the holidays are done! Yay! I think I may be the only guy who actually loves all the commercials and over-played music before the holidays. I totally buy in to the hype. If I could drag my sorry ass out of bed early enough, I’d probably happily go trample some people at a Kohls or whatever to buy the newest version of a golf-bag bluetooth radio. I get overly giddy. I make chocolate drinks, watch all the Christmas movies, wrap up in red comfy blankets on my couch after putting up a tree. I buy new slippers. My belly gets all warm and rumbly for the coming day. I feel like a little kid who knows he’s going to get a new bike. But, once the actual Christmas day hits? It’s like instant boredom and sadness all kick in. It’s kind of the opposite of what’s supposed to happen right?
You open the one awesome gift from your significant other and the other nine you bought yourself, and that’s done in like six stupid seconds. Remember when you were a kid and you opened all your gifts and you still had a little feeling of hope as you did one, two, three, four last scans around the base of the tree only to find-indeed-nothing else is under there but a crappy tree skirt and an empty desert of finality? That’s what the whole day feels like for me now as an adult. I feel envious for my friends who celebrate Hanukkah, at least there’s the potential for each night to go by and the sadness to slowly creep up on you. For us Christmasians (Christmites? Christmassholes?), it’s like driving 65 miles an hour with the top rolled down, smiling and laughing maniacally, unaware of the troubles of the world, littering the road with reflective joy with the garland and glitter spitting from the open roof, clasping hands with your loved one in the passenger seat and then “BAM” you hit a damn puppy. That puppy’s name is Christmas day. Merry Christmas, you sad bastard. Then? Well, that day’s over, back to work for five useless days. Then?! Get drunk and pay six times more for an Über home after chasing fun all night and spending half your rent money to watch your friend puke all over. What is wrong with us?
Happy fucking holidays.
Haha ok. I’m done with that. These photos are from a live show I shot with my trusty Leica R3 (35mm camera) and Hasselblad 500cm (medium format awesome). The show was at the Fillmore a few weeks back and featured Trout Steak Revival, The Wood Brothers, and The Infamous Stringdusters. All this stuff is film, yo! Woot woot.
Just so you know, I’ll still be happy for the holidays next year. But, every day’s a holiday when you take pictures!
See you tonight at Office Hours! Thanks for looking at muh stuff.