To the subtle dismay of my vp and the client, I made a point to get my ass back home as soon as I could on Friday. I had a date with my favorite kitty cat – Julian Casablancas. My plane landed around 5:25 p.m. and The Strokes show started around 7:30. Of course, you know the guys weren’t going to hit the stage until 9:45. So, no pressure. Felt good to be home and on my way to the rock show – as it should be.

That’s some of the preliminary details. So, I won’t bore you with more logistics, but I will tell you the show rocked my fuckin’ socks off. Only caught the tail end of them, but the opening band, Eagles of Death Metal really set the show off right. Excellent tour pairing.

Me and a few pals got into the pit with some of the early-bird tickets I got back in January for being such a loyal fan. (Thanks, Matt!) We were so close to the stage; I was dismayed to see everyone had their phone cams and digitals whipped out for take home proof of the proximity, while I was too cool show up with anything but my ID and a $50 bill. I was pretty fucking close. You have to believe me because as usual you have no choice.

Just to give you some perspective, I swiped the pic below off The Strokes site and denoted where I was located during the show. The pit wasn’t even as crowed as this picture shows. It felt like a small venue from where we were standing.

When the guys came out, Julian made some comment about how the rainy weather followed them into town. “And by weather I mean the lightening.” Then he said,"Today's St. Patrick's Day...heh...for those of you that need an excuse to drink." Someone screamed out, “I want to party with you.” Julian said, “I want to party with you too. That’s what we’re doin’.” Drunken. Greasy. Disaffected. I love my sexy kitten. I love my Julian. I love my Strokes.

The set was great. Then they came back out for an encore. Albert and Nick were playing feedback into the speakers and then the rest of the guys came out to warm up. Julian thanked us for screaming them back for the encore. He started to mumble, “I wanna see what’s goin’ on down here,” as he crouched down to the front of the stage and disappeared. He popped back up in the crowd pulling his mic cord behind him. Once everyone realized what was happening he was mobbed. You could hear him moaning into the mic, like he was being tortured, but he liked it. You’ll be ashamed to hear that I was frozen. He was just feet from me and being pushed away.

Fortunately one of my friends, who shall from here on be referred to as my rock coach, said, “Go!” So, I went. Sloshing my way through the crowd, my arm reaching for Julian like he was sinking into the water and I was swimming deeper to reach him. Then he was there, in my hand. His leather jacket. Purr. His hand. Caressing his soft hand. Running my arm down his back, up his jacket. His smooth cotton t-shirt. Down my hand went. My finger tips sensed the untucked corner of his shirt. Then my hand was on his skin, running up his moist back. Friends, friends, friends, he's like soft velvet electricity. Julian is anything but toned. He’s soft like a baby. My hand feeling around to the side, the love handle on his right. My cheek touching the back of his jacket. My hand almost to his tummy, then he was gone. Pulled away from me by the rest of the molesting sea and the security guards trying to rescue him. 15 seconds. He was mine for 15 seconds. Maybe it was even less than that, but it seemed like an hour.

Once Julian was flung back onto the stage, the guys finished out the encore with "Take It or Leave It," which just totally fuckin' rocked. Rocked! God bless The Strokes.

I was absolutely in Heaven. After I caught up with my friends they told me I was going to have to wrap my hand in plastic for the rest of my days. Because it was Julian they figured my hand was going to turn black and rot off if I didn’t wash it. I don‘t know about that, but this giant Ziploc bag has made typing this entry very difficult.

I felt kind of badly for violating him like that, but later that night after making out with my hand, I decided it was okay.

So, that was the highlight of my weekend. How was yours?

Talk to you again next Sunday. Be good until then.

While the Olympics were going on, I was holed up in NYC working on a project. I had to TiVo most everything. So, there is much I still need to catch up on. However, I caught enough to have seen most of the action.

I want to ravage Chad Hedrick in the worst way. I said it. It feels weird, like I’m ashamed.

So, do any of these guys make it to the pages of Dark Blades?

Future of Dark Blades

This site was created to help the over flow of Apolomania; can it evolve into something more, something else? Maybe.

See you on Sunday.

Howdy. Yeah. I’ve got some stuff to tell ya’. I’m just away from my home computer right now. In the mean while, please answer this question on our message board: