(Last night . . . June 20, 2012 . . . Seattle . . .)
Met some old friends and some new ones at The Honey Hole after work (yeah, that’s the name of the place, no lie). Shot the shit. Had some adult beverages. Had half a samitch , made on a crusty French roll with sliced steak, goat cheese, peppers, pesto, and some other shit. Awesome.
The new friends urged me to try a soup with a name I can’t pronounce. Had a cup of that. Was made with hot curry, coconut, cream, veggies, chicken, and I don’t know what else. Extra awesome. Had a second cup, with more adult beverages. Told the pretty lady from the kitchen who made it that it gave me an orgasm. May not have actually used the word “orgasm”, but same concept. She brought me a cup of cheese soup with broccoli in it. And people say men can’t have multiple orgasms.
Reluctantly left the Honey Hole before trying the third kind of soup on offer. Drove with the old friends to Studio Seven. Got there in time to have a beer and a shot before Revocation’s set. Fourth time I’ve heard them, never gets old.
Listened to a couple of songs from the balcony bar while taking pics, then went down to the floor and locked myself in about two feet from the stage in front of David Davidson. Whole band was firing on all cylinders, and then some. Realized again what a fuckin’ wizard Davidson is. Pretty sure I levitated. Pit would start up and then kind of stop, cuz people just couldn’t help but stare. The downside of being so damned brilliant.
Bought a Revocation shirt, so they can eat. Plus the shirt is awful fine. Went outside with the friends to smoke cigarettes and watch the beautiful people in all their black finery. More beer afterward. Then Dying Fetus began to crank it up.
Took a few pics from the balcony and headed for the floor. Muscled my way up front, one layer of metalheads between me and the stage. Pit was non-stop, and violent. Something about the Fetus music stimulates the reptile brain. Trey Williams is a human drum cyborg. All three of them, machine-like, vacuum tight, locked-in like lasers. They don’t move much, no pandering to the worshippers, so focused. Music is like sticks of dynamite thrown into the crowd. Bodies flying, necks snapping, utter mayhem.
A few vicious fights in the pit, one dude gnawing on another one’s neck. Two dudes in front of me took turns trying to choke each other out in headlocks. I pried them apart once, cuz it looked out of control, they came up smiling. Did it again.
Me on the front edge of the pit, trying to watch the stage, getting body blows from behind and both sides. Hung in there, music was galvanizing. Might be blood in my urine tomorrow. Tried to take a few pics, what a joke. Using some of them in this post anyway, what the fuck. Wishing Dying Fetus had never stopped playing. Fuckin’ brutal, literally.
Had to leave before Six Feet Under played, to make my ferry boat home. Goddamned early day tomorrow, cuz of the fucking day job. Made the ferry boat with 2 minutes to spare. Banging out this post over the water. Got off the ferry and drove home. Downloaded the pics. Too tired to be selective. Too tired to edit them. Wish I had some photo training. Anyway, so almost all the photos — put ’em in the post.