bonniegrrl | Nine Inch Nails, David Sedaris and In-N-Out

(image from nin official myspace.com)

I'm a people person, just not a crowd person. But sometimes, I have to make the exception, join the huddled unwashed masses and attend a concert. In the last week I've managed to make an all-time personal record of going to two concerts back to back. Now granted, these couldn't be two more opposite crowds -- one listens to nothing but industrial, the other permanently sets the dial to NPR.

First up Nine Inch Nails. Now for anyone who reads my blog or vaguely knows me at all, they get it -- I have a huge crush on Trent Reznor. I've been listening to Nine Inch Nails since I first saw them in '89 waaaaay back in the day when Skinny Puppy were gods, and it was still a rarity to find another "Death Rocker" aka Goth kid in your dorm. Nowadays, thanks to Hot Topic and iTunes, anyone can grab the goth/industrial/punk culture and go. But that's another old lady rant.

I eagerly bought overpriced Ticketmaster tickets to the first Nine Inch Nails show at the Warfield one early Saturday morning online. It sold out in mere minutes. And I was all giddy for the first time in a long time. I was going to see Nine Inch Nails in a decent venue and I wouldn't have to camp out or see them play a huge arena. Of course, once I got there I soon realized that I may have been jumping the happiness gun. Before I begin to whine, let me first say I'm not a snob. If you look like Tom Cruise and listen to NIN, fine, no biggie. If you are an Avril fan and Trent is your hero -- sure, okay, fine. But if you're a hippie and you have Muppet hair and you like to dance like Phish is permanently playing in your head, don't stand in front of me at a Nine Inch Nails concert!

Not only was a hippie dancing right in front of me, but in the nosebleed seats in the balcony where I was seated, I was also near every kind of Nine Inch Nails fan that I never thought should exist -- dancing hippies, bored soccer moms, drunk frat boys, Morrisey-lookalikes, screaming sorority girls and believe it or not an old man wearing a cowboy hat. WHAT IN THE HELL?

For a minute, I thought maybe it was a prank. Like I was on some annoying MTV show where they mess with innocent people's heads. But no, this was all too real. And it made me wonder what the band must think. I mean money is money, but I know that if that's the crowd I was attracting with my music, I must be doing something very wrong.

As I listened to Trent sing all his greatest hits with the strobelight flashing into my eyes from the stage, I craned my neck over the side of the balcony to see if the crowd was any better in general admission. It was a different crowd alright -- a sea of writhing blackness of sweaty tour t-shirts, leather wrist bands, goth girls trying not to let their mascara smear and lots of flailing fists. I caught the eye of many smooshed people looking up at me probably wondering if my seats were any better.

Trent played "Hurt" at the piano, but instead of being able to let myself get caught up in the dramatic moodiness of the melody, all I could hear were the wasted frat boys behind me yelling "play that animal fuck song!" over and over. I wondered why the same type of boys who used to push me into my locker for listening to this stuff, now love it? Or was it just that "animal fuck song" they adored oh so much? Weird thing was, Trent only played one song off the new record -- "Hand That Feeds" -- the rest were best of Downward Spiral, some Fragile and a couple from Pretty Hate Machine. No complaining from me since I haven't heard a lot of what he played live before, but it was odd he didn't bother promoting With Teeth which I figured was the whole point of this tour. Meh.

The next night after work, I went with my friend Mary to Santa Rosa to see my favorite author -- David Sedaris -- speak. This was the flipside of the crowd I saw at NIN the night before -- with the exception of hippies of course -- only at least for this no one was dancing. When we parked the car in the parking lot, I noticed something that can only happen in California -- a Vegan tailgate party! heh.

For two hours I did nothing but laugh aloud to all of Sedaris' stories as he read about live in Paris, eavesdropping on tourists, dealing with weird family members, his adoration for In-N-Out Burger and more. If you haven't read any of his stuff, you should. His writing alone is what's kept me continuing my dream of becoming a better writer. His stories always make me laugh and I can't say enough great things about him.

So of course, I waited afterwards to get him to sign his book Holidays on Ice. I had already decided that would ask him his thoughts about his sister (another hero of mine Amy Sedaris) and her imaginary boyfriend. After waiting another hour in line, I finally was face to face with Sedaris. I have few heroes so when I meet them I try not to make too much of an ass of myself. I asked about the imaginary boyfriend and he seemed bored with the question -- dang. Maybe he was just tired, he had been there awhile. He basically said something I figured he would -- and it sounded like an answer he gave way too many times to suit the lame curiosity of his fans -- "he's the perfect boyfriend because he's never in the way and lets her have her space... thanks for coming out to see me...next." Damn. I should have asked him for dating advice. Or if he ever ate a 10x10 at In-N-Out. Or if he thinks it's bizarre that I collect jackalope taxidermy. Anything but what I asked.

After Mary got her audio book signed "Never blow a horse in your bedroom" we headed out for food. It was about 11pm so not much was open -- we headed to In-N-Out for a quick bite. As I devoured my double cheeseburger and fries we chatted about the show and what we did at Celebration III in Indy the weekend before; and as I glanced over to look at the wall clock, who did I see ordering a cheeseburger? David Sedaris! He looked over at us and we said, "You weren't kidding about liking In-N-Out, were you?" and he smiled. Perfect night. Now if Trent ate In-N-Out I'd be set.