A fresh ear of corn.

So after a terrible day "at the office" (I really shouldn't be putting this in quotation marks- I know. But I can't actually write this in a non-satirical manner even though I do, in fact, work in an office.) I came home, only to realize that I had left my phone and keys on my bed that very same morning. I realized this right outside of the door to my apartment building.

It is at times like these that I must think of the happiest most rainbow and sunshine filled places ever before I lose my shit and send a Moltov cocktail firebomb into the police station across the street. Cue the hokey flashback noise, spinning camera blur, and take me back to Sunday afternoon...

Travis and I spent the good majority of our day wandering about Brooklyn, and ended up on an expansive roof in Bushwick. All the hip ass kids hid from the afternoon sun in the shady periphery, sunglasses still on, cigarettes dangling from lips. Burning accessories of cultivated boredom. In the far corner of the roof with a Manhattan skyline backdrop, some band rocked relentlessly even though nobody was really listening. They sucked, but their guitarist was wearing parachute pants, redeeming them in my eyes.

Post opening openers, opening for more openers (who would then watch those whom they opened for while getting good and drunk), Ninjasonik opened for Team Robespierre. Though Team Robespierre really rocked in the purest form of the word, I was still more charmed by the haphazard, half-assed performance of Ninjasonik. The sun was beginning to set, dipping the skyscape in gold, setting the mood for lyrics such as, "I'm a tight pants wearing ass n***a" (hint: not 'ninja'), and "I don't care if she got AIDS!" Ninjasonik lyrics may not be the most impressive examples of word-smithery in the industry, but they are enthusiastic to no end, and painfully hilarious.

Nearing the end of the set, the mosh-happy crowd swarmed around the duo, drunkenly improvising the words to "art school," a little ditty in which Ninjasonik professes their love for arty girls. This is my happy place. The police station across the street still stands.