Perils of assimilation

If only life came with subtitles.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Justice ou la morte!

"Justice! Justice! Justice!"

No, We were not at a Jena 6 demonstration, or an anti-war protest, though if one were to judge by the fervor of the crowd it could have been a european soccor riot. We were in Minneapolis, AJ and I, at Foundation waiting for Justice to take the stage. Foundation is a smaller venue, and it was PACKED. They had sold out the show on a Tuesday night, which is pretty difficult to do, I would imagine. Tickets were only $15, which meant I could see a quality band without killing my bank account. Justice was not about ego, no crazy costumes like Daft Punk, no mind-blowing effects. What they had was better than all that: the ability to keep the party going. We were about 10 feet from the stage, but we weren't crushed at all. Everyone wanted room to dance, and the psychic energy there was fantastic.

We danced until the wee hours of the morning.

And then did a radio show.

And then went to Class.

And then spoke at a forum.

And then worked on a paper.

And finally I slept.


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