the other night i ended up at the key club for the first time since my living in hollywood. the crowd was ridiculously sleezy and desperate, old, and still trying to make something of a dream that has for so long been shaken apart. the bands were awful. no harmony. no inspiration. just a flat desire for fame. there might have been an ounce of passion stuck somewhere in between the tight levi's and the cheesey belt buckles, but i'm sure the combat boots will squash it sooner than later. i've never felt so depressed while watching live music.... i had to get out. never will i return to the key club again. (unless it's a great band.) ugh. everything about that place felt so wrong, tainted and broken.
somewhere over the rainbow, i spent an uplifting night at the troubadour in west hollywood last night. i saw some great bands that have their hearts and minds in the right place, and it really does send out a better feeling in the room. it was a tad cold in the venue, but the music somehow warmed the place up. plus shia labeouf was there, making a fool of himself. such a drunken, lonely celeb, trying too hard to obtain more attention. apparently he can keep a quarter on his forehead while banging his head on the bar counter -- 5 times. brilliant.
tonight we celebrate S' birthday at cha cha cha. i need to find the perfect present! she's not into contrasting colors so much. hm. monochromatic possibilities, where art thou?
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