So technically this time—Sunday Sunday Sunday—is reserved for me to begin my senior paper project of a nonfictive creative nature with as-of-yet undetermined content. But I don’t know what to do (what the hell am I going to do??) so that’s right—deepsicks gets an update.
Um… let’s see. Underworld was fantastic, spectacular amazing electrifying and more. Unfortunately I suck and checked my bag with my camera inside and refrained from retrieving it (the security also made me throw out all my food—five fruit bars, an almost full loaf of bread, and a new jar of peanut butter. Jerks). So. No photos, but oh well. Chicago was easy to navigate—I didn’t get lost or start crying or anything. I met some people at the show (I was intensely happy and uuum ran up to some strangers and hugged them) who were kind enough to take me home with them, giving me a corner of a couch and a couple hours of sleep to a Portishead concerto before I took the L back to the Greyhound station for my 7 a.m. departure. Overall it was a self-opening, odd, and incredible experience, and we never said we’d never see each other again.
Know what’s fun? Going to Chicago and getting down and dropping the jaws of strangers who ask, “Where’d you learn to dance like that?” and telling them “Fargo.” 
It’s also fun to take preemptive painkillers for the headache you feel coming on and saying, “Dude, that was Tylenol” to the kid who asks where he can “get more of those,” and witnessing for the first time truly an expression the epitome of sheepish aw-shit-I’m-a-total-dumbass.
At a sadly unhappenin’ afterparty, I scored some Underworld iron-ons, some of which I gave to my friend Epich who immediately plugged in an iron and found six(!) articles of clothing to Underworldify. It was insane; look up “going to town” in a dictionary and there’ll be a picture of Epich ironing. I thought he was just being polite, but no, he was ecstatic—I have more, so if anyone wants them, ask and I’ll send. Despite my misgivings with words on clothes, I myself put (the Underworld song title) “Dinosaur Adventure 3D” on the Clown Pants mentioned on the Bored; they’ve since been dyed a dark blue to make ‘em less ridiculous… though them saying “Dinosaur Adventure 3D” really doesn’t help in this capacity. Oh well. Kitsch is cool and they own and are now officially known as the Dinosaur Pants. I wore them last night at Sasha, and guess what, he played a mix of “Dinosaur Adventure 3D”—I’m not even kidding. To make things even more cool, the concert was in 3D, with not-as-good-as-they-wanted-to-be visuals and dorky red and blue lensed glasses. I grabbed some extras, so the next half dozen or so purchasers of The Teaching Emotion via mail will get a pair—ACT NOW!!! Heh. Stupid things and stuff.
In other music news, I saw Thrice, Hot Water Music, and Coheed and Cambria last Thursday. Excellent excellent excellent, and it was a real test. I’m getting to the age where I’m getting older, and I know the unthinkable will eventually occur—I will cease to dance at hardcore shows and concerts. DJ events are a little different; the clientele is older and of a significantly different breed, but at shows? Hm. Some of these kids weren’t quite twelve, and short and frail and (adorable but) clueless. There will come a time when I won’t want to join that fray and bust those moves, when I’ll think it too brutal and cringe at the prospect of getting injured (or of accidentally maiming a small child). I’m proud to report that I did join, I did bust, and I did get utterly destroyed… and loved it. I had such a great time, and I forget—seriously—what it’s like to experience that; I hadn’t been to a show of that nature since the Warped Tour last July. There was much hardcore dancin’ going on, which I always find intriguing and terrifying—find a video or something if you don’t know what it is, ’cause it’s truly indescribable. Anyway, someone kicked me in the elbow which must’ve pinched a nerve—I couldn’t feel half my arm for fifteen minutes, it was awesome. I also got punched in the eye and blacked out a few seconds—and it only cost me $11! But seriously, folks. I had a slug of Thrice mp3s I was hangin’ from all night—I bought both their full lengths at the show, and I must say, they are quite the amazing band. Same goes for Coheed and Cambria. Their live performance was key and I’m mostly satisfied and impressed with their album “The Second Stage Turbine Blade”—though the record feels a little weak at points, they’re the sort of band in which you sense great things, opportunities for growth that will someday, soon, blow you away. Curious? Download “Delirium Trigger” from mp3.com—”uncanny” comes to mind. I very much look forward to their next release.
Halloween week starts tomorrow! Festivities abound. I hope to be in Fargo for at least part of the weekend, so if there’s any casual Fargoan droppers-by interested in getting a copy of TTE (I know you’re out there) drop me a line. I’ll definitely be visible. Oh, and as for belated Fargo news, My Viet, the much beloved restaurant I attempted to immortalize with my essay “Stepping Beyond”, no longer exists. It’s just… not there anymore. 
My birthday’s on Sunday the 3rd. I’ll be 22—really old and really young, on lots of scary edges. Mom, I want tacos with Fantastic Foods fake meat for my birthday meal. The fast starts now.
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