ham fisted theatrics

Saw Ghostface Killah last night (or the tail end of his set, anyway) at the NYU mystery concert. I didn't have a ticket and I got out of class late, but Donald txt-messaged me that it wasn't sold out and I should try to get in, and I did. A steady stream of Dudes With My Haircut and their Girlfriends With My Haircut were coming out of the theater as I was on my way in: Animal Collective was the opener and apparently People With My Haircut prefer ambient-psych-noise-whatever to...you know...things that are fun.

Ghostface prompted us to throw our cellphones in the air for ODB and did a string of Wu Tang hits. Ghostface did "Run," the song I credit with teaching me how to behave when I'm caught selling drugs in a school zone. Ghostface prompted "all the ladies" to get on the stage. "Where NYU at?" he asked. Apparently where NYU is at is a place where bony, enthusiastic white girls bop around like they're at a B-52's concert while dudes in Ghostface's posse rub up against them. I like the idea that these girls' dads paid forty grand so their daughters could get onstage and have rappers talk about "putting one in their doo-doo maker."

It was fuckin' great. He didn't do "Holla" or "R.A.G.U." but I still have very little room for complaint.

Tonight: seeing Boris Yeltsin in BKLYN. Hooray!