On the Precipice
No, I haven’t played the Penny Arcade game. But I did recently get to see the last song in that game performed live, by none other than MC Frontalot. Last week I was at Nerdapalooza, enjoying the gathering of many nerdcore musicians from all over the country and even a few internationals. Although two twelve-hour days of solid music programming was too much for me, I tried to catch a song or two from every group, and even got to do a guest spot on one song. You can read about my adventures in last week’s column, although it doesn’t mention that the two main ways I impressed people over the weekend were by freestyling in the parking lot, and by baking delicious pizzas to share at a party hosted by a group actually named Emergency Pizza Party.
Actually, since I haven’t posted in a bit, you may want to read my previous columns on puritanical sexual mores and ettiquette advice. But now I have finally returned home, and with another mil(l/e)stone* fast approaching, I stand on the precipice of old age, soon never to be trusted, and I can’t help but wish to squeeze more out of the swiftly fleeting days.
I can’t complain too much, though. A few days ago I attended a poetry slam hosted by none other than national slam poetry clampion Taylor Mali. He was very entertaining as a host, but was not competing, which meant that I managed to emerge victorious. It was a lovely event to welcome me back to the Berkshires, and I account myself fortunate that regardless of how awesome my vacations are, returning home is always a pleasant experience for me. When life is good, frequent vacations are less important.
*Because it’s a milestone and a millstone, and because I was forced to read Derrida in college and there’s no reason you shouldn’t suffer too.