Hey, dudes. Glad you could make it to The Cube, The Gelatinous Cube, Cube House; where the house is square but nothing else is, ha-ha, sorry.  If that’s a bit obvious, at Gel’ House we feel like inside jokes are exclusionary. It’s not that we don’t have a sense of humor; we just don’t identify as funny. You can park anywhere. Just make sure you duck tape the windows and leave a band member in the van at all times. Our neighbors are cool as shit, but they don’t know how poor we are so it gets tense sometimes. I’m like, “Dude, you don’t fucking know me. My grandfather built clocks.” But, whatever. They’re cool. Oh but if you are going to park? Can you park down on Central? It’s safest by the Shell. Yeah, cool, hey…when you come back, could you grab me a pack of Chesterfield Kings? What? Oh, no reason. I always smoked ‘em.

So, listen. We’re psyched for the show. We are totally going to take care of you. I’m extra psyched cuz we just added a few bands. No, no, nothing crazy. Just a seven band bill. I was thinking it would be you guys, Diskrust, No Vowel, Tit Mouse (They’re all girls. What do you mean, why did I mention that? It’s interesting!), Reverse Stranger, Try To Google Us, and Tin Cup (ex Water World dudes. Awesome), oh and maybe Brastastophy Marching Band if they show. They’re a marching band. So if they show, they show. Is it cool if you guys headline? Don’t worry. Shit always runs on time here. Doors are at 10 but we’ll share equipment.

Oh, that reminds me. everyone is fucking psyched for the show, but, well this is kind of embarrassing, because of a pact with a nameless, unspeakable elder god that was included in the house charter back in 1993, we have no kick pedals. Is it cool if a couple bands use yours? I mean, we’re all here for the same reasons right. No rock stars in Gel’ House! Even if we don’t worship the same gods I think we all agree that we all fear the same one. So that’s cool? Cool. Everyone here is super respectful.

Speaking of super respectful, what kind of head do you guys use with your bass rig? And what kind of rig? I know it’s annoying but Sebo from No Vowel, you might know him he was in The Antioch Arrows? No, what? No, the Arrows? From Antioch? I don’t know what you’re talking about…I’m not into that tough guy shit. I mean who even talks like that? I don’t respect any singer who doesn’t sing in his or her natural cadence.  You know who the real pussies are? Phonies. Anyway, Seb, left his entire bass combo up at Antioch. He needs to use yours. No rock stars. Also, he has claws instead of hands. So I hope you brought extra strings. And if it’s cool, the other people who kind of need to use all of your bass equipment is everybody else here.

Oh shit, before I forget. I have drink tickets. Is one per band member cool? We aren’t about the market here. That’s the confusion of Babylon. Also, the show is BYOB.

Before we go any further, there are some house rules. No racism, homophobia, rape jokes, sexism, misandry, transphobia, or any other generally offensive hate speech…to anyone’s face. We have small cubicles scattered throughout the house where you may anonymously, and ONLY anonymously, write what you will. They also double as photo booths. Because preciousness is next to godliness. If, by some sort of glitch of programming (that we in no way plan to appease some sort of vengeful internet demon who got caught in the system by a Warhammer 40K cosplay sex spell gone awry) happens to occur and a poster’s identity is revealed it is required that all band members currently using the booths turn on the revealed poster en mass, regardless of their own more crapulent tendencies. In lieu of actual effect, please express outrage, continuous outrage, until it’s your turn to be devoured by your former friends. Either metaphorically or, as is usually the case, literally. Please keep in mind that the first band goes on at 11 sharp.

I noticed that there a four of you. Are you all in the band? Naw, man, relax, we’re not looking to charge your pals! But, what I’m trying to say is: if you don’t need all four members on stage at all times, we need someone to take money at the door. Scotty never showed and no one else in the county is allowed to touch Jewish currency. What? Nothing, that’s just what we call it. No need to call the PC police! So, point being, if you’d open your minds long enough to hear it; no one at the door means no one gets paid. Up to you. But I will say, no disrespect intended, that you’d be really fucking all the other bands over. And correct me if I’m wrong, but one of you just sings anyway. She can easily do that from the door.

Man, I don’t want to argue with you guys. I just want to put on shows and have a good time. This community is really important to me and I don’t like you coming and shitting all over it with your shitty attitude. Next you’re gonna say that no one can use your guitar amp. Not one band out of twelve can use your precious magical guitar amp that is presumably made from a unicorn pelt and shoots bacon. What? Oh yeah, no, I know. We can only reference unicorns and bacon. Funny story, that’s actually what happened to all the house guitar amps. You know that cult No Age is part of? Not Scientology, but the other one? OK, maybe it’s Scientology. Anyway, and you’d know this if you ever left your precious coasts (yeah I know we’re in Bushwick; don’t be obtuse), around 2002, it was decreed by this religious organization, that we’re all part of, that unicorns and bacon were not only inherently interesting, but that unicorns and bacon were the only things that were inherently interesting, and that vowels and clean vocals were verboten, and that anyone not having an entirely facile and unironic pretty good time, ALL the time, preferably in basic white t shirts and slacks, was a heretic and that they would be thrown down into the pit behind Cupid Coffee Club on the outskirts of town, where they’d suffer the perdition of having their bowels eaten by rot grubs while the strains of “Electric Feel” played in the background for all eternity.

Anyway, that’s what happened to Brad. And he had the guitar amp.

Look, I don’t know why you guys are pulling this major label ego trip. I know you put out your music yourself but I worked for Sony until Wednesday of last week so I know corporate bullshit when I see it. I know for a fact that you DJ from a computer. I only DJ flexis of runs of 37 or less so get off your high horse. No I mean literally, get off that horse. We need it for the ritual before the dance party. Yeah, there’s going to be a dance party before, after, and during the bands. All trap (whatever that is) and the last person standing gets the door money. Then we eat them.

If you don’t like fun, why are you here?

Hey man, sorry if I got intense, it comes with the beard and glasses and third eye. But you know that already. I like your Death in June tattoo. Oh for sure, I’m apolitical too. Wink wink…wink. We actually have an apolitical game room if you guys want to chill out in a really intensely fun way. We have board games we made ourselves, using the corporate board games as the template and then subverting their hierarchal nature by ensuring that everybody loses. We play “Sorry,” “Really Sorry,” “Actual Mousetrap,” and, my favorite, “The Corpse That Grows inside You Is Not a Metaphor But, Rather, A Literal Hippo That Is Hungry, Hungry…” Game time starts as soon as you go on, But don’t worry, we’ll all be listening from the attic.

Here, dry your tears with this flyer. We have plenty because we didn’t put any up. But don’t worry about it, the kids already love you. And by “kids” I mean the bodiless shadows on the wall that exude a sourceless heat. The chit chit of insects, we borrowed that too. Don’t ask from where, let the nameless remain unnamed is the house motto.  Anyway, you’re almost on. Trapped in a scene am I right? There are no more razors in the kitchen. They’re all at your feet. Yeah, just feel around. We won’t do anything to you. You have to do it yourself.

You seem confused by what I’m telling you. Why are you crying? Crying is a form of bullying and I assert that you’re being reductionist in your terror. We have a strong house rule against reductionism. It’s punishable by being placed into the “negative capability” room. The only way you can leave that room is if you use the term “negative capability” in the correct context. Yeah, well, that’s why it’s a punishment.

Look, I can tell by your clawing at the moist dark red surface where the door used to be that you’re upset. I don’t blame you. DIY isn’t for everyone. But just relax and have fun. These jaws are completely free of corporate sponsorship. This tongue doubles as a half pipe. We’re all equal here, the devoured and the devouring…the show will start shortly; we just need to borrow your teeth.

Photo: Gore Street Punk House via AltheoWorld

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