The Apodion Dispatches

Z. D. Smith checks in. 

Groundbreaking style

I said, I don't think these shoes go with these pants, but I was wrong.

Pajamas by Nautica, shoes by Generic Man. Cuff by yours fuckin' truly.

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No Surrender

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This is what you do in Boston

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Bathrooms can be black metal too

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Pictures From The Metallica Show

Here follow lights, lasers, flames, and fully articulated rotating brushed metal coffins with lights on them.

                                 
Click here to download:
Pictures_From_The_Metallica_Sh.zip (4536 KB)

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Full house

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Volbeat

I'm watching Volbeat now. These guys dress like modern-day Green Day and play a pleasing burly modern heavy metal with vocals that make you think of Elvis and Danzig before Hetfield. The place isn't yet even half full but the floor is packed, the kids are responding well, and I can't begin to imagine what it must feel to go from being a band that your humble correspondant had never heard of before to playing Madison Square Garden at Metallica's personal invitation.

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I am outside of a Metallica show.

I am surprisingly early and I'm waiting for my contact. I'm drinking a strawberry smoothie and eating
small piece if rasberry cheesecake. Again surprisingly, considering the neighborhood, they were relatively cheap and I even saw her put real strawberries in the blender. The cake is a little dry, though.

There's a large number of Metallica shirts around, given the traditional proscription against wearing the shirt of the band you've gone to see. Then again at least one of those shirts was nestled under the silken folds of a matching black velvet Sean John track suit, so one imagines that all bets might be somewhat off.

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Here's me in my free shirt from Aardvark.

http://vark.com

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One leg up

Here's a picture of the guitar player for this really douchey band that Flaming Tusk played with a while ago.

You can see that he's got irregular chops scissored out of his shirt, and one leg up on his monitor, Creed-style. Later in his set, he was to hop down from the stage and solo very badly on the floor while a female friend of his awkwardly if pre-choreographedly tore his shirt off his body.

All in all pretty douchey. If you are reading this, Guitar God, sorry for making fun of you in public. But not too sorry, because I never want to play with your band again.

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