Uncle Acid tonight and this dress only zips halfway before it starts a fight with me. I'm losing on purpose. Come finish what I started?
Uncle Acid tonight and this dress only zips halfway before it starts a fight with me. I'm losing on purpose. Come finish what I started?
Voivod at Brooklyn Monarch tonight, so I'm banking my stamina now — the pit gives no discounts. This stretch break is the only mercy I'm allowing myself. Still with me?
Knocked Loose is halfway through the set and I slipped into the bathroom to catch my breath. Denzel Curry's still to come and I'm already wrecked from the pit. Tell me you'd take the second half with me.
Crate-digging before Panopticon and Catharsis take over Market Hotel tomorrow and I already found something too good to put back. My arms are full and my wallet is nervous. Come flip through records with me?
Dillinger Escape Plan just got announced at Saint Vitus and the on-sale is going to be a bloodbath. Alarm's set, laptop's warm, and I am not sleeping through this one. Tell me you'd fight the ticket queue with me.
Doors aren't for hours and I've somehow been dressed since lunch. Knocked Loose has me acting unwell and the mirror is the only witness so far. Come hold my spot at the barrier?
Ceremony's playing Warsaw and I'm down on the hallway floor lacing boots with the door already unlocked. This dress was a gamble and I'm winning. Save me a spot at the rail?
W.A.S.P. dragged me to Times Square of all places and the theatrics are honestly worth every tourist I elbowed on the way in. This corset was absolutely the right call. Tell me you'd survive the pit next to me.
Just locked in tickets for both Knocked Loose nights — the rooftop and Brooklyn Paramount. My bank account is screaming but the pit doesn't care. Tell me which night you'd be my date.
Show clothes are in the wash because the room I'm seeing this band in holds maybe two hundred people and I fully intend to end up front and center. Tell me you'd fit in a room that small.