The gig, the afterparty, and paradise engineering

cThat band with all the nice people held their first concert last night,
at this arts contest. They served dry-ice drinks.

The guys who ran the gig wanted us to dress "smart-casual." I really didn't like that, so I decided to walk in with my thinnest tee and tight jeans. Unfortunately, I left all my just-washed clothes on my bed the night before, and I put my feet on them as I slept, and in the morning, they were all stinky and sock-smelly, but I guess it was worth my sticking-it-to-the-man. My friend then arrived in shorts and a super-thin tee as well, and he said they had to let him in, because his I.Q. was quite a bit above average. He said he'd donate all 50 NT of change to Haiti. They let us in.

Then the performances that night were pretty good, I thought, especially the first band (they had to censor a line in their song where they mention suicide, but the awesome vocalist decided to sing it anyway, repeating it maybe 7 o 8 times).
But then my friend thought most of them were pretty horrible.
I sort of agreed with him to make him happy, but I always feel so bad about criticizing anything, especially good things that I like.

(My friend, he was there was because he and his friend had submitted a film about a rock who was hired to do cool stuff.

His friend also created one about a cube who falls into a hole which sets off a switch for a disco party.

Right up until the end, it looked like they would win, because most of the other films were pretty horrible. One was about some guys doing stupid stuff like snorting cinnamon and burning themselves with hot water and pulling their flesh with clips and stuff. But then that one guy with a dying, cancerous brother created an absolutely astounding music video where a guy on a chair travels all around the city, and he took around 200 shots for this. )

The cool band was last.
They played Marley's "Stir It Up," in honor of his birthday, but they hadn't prepared any other songs, so they did an improvised guitar solo for like five minutes.
As they walked off the stage, the audience wanted them to play a third song. They thought for a while and played "Blitzkrieg Bop," only they didn't know the words (except the "Hey, ho! Let's go!), so the guitarist pretended to sing really quietly, but really he was just singing nonsense.

Then the judges stepped up and unanimously decided the music video would be the best in its category.
That band, of course, was the best musical performance.
Some random video about a sleepover and a horror movie won first place and best overall.
Each got a cash prize of 1000 NT.

We left the gig at around 9 to go to McDonald's.
My friend complained to all the people leaving about how low the frame rate was for his video, but they all told him it wasn't that bad.
His friend, he told us how nobody in the audience really understood the artistic merit of his disco cube film.

On the way to McD's, we met up with the band again. They were also going to McDonald's.
When we got there, they spent their prize money all in a night, on several trays of fries and ice cream.

After we got back at 10, we wasted some time in the billiards room. One guy joked about stuff like how girls always think you're looking at their boobs, even when you're not. (Quite odd: I hadn't actually ever noticed them acting like that, even in the many instances where I am).
And then my friend got into an argument about economics with two other guys. One was really just upset at the unfairness of it all, but the other wouldn't admit defeat and said the reason those poor people were so poor was because they wanted to have so many fucking children. I joined in on my friend's side, but my logic wasn't nearly as good, so I didn't add a whole lot.
I don't like conflict, anyway.

At around 11, they all left and my friend and this other cool guy and I were left all alone in the pool room. The cool guy, I really like him.
He's an ISFP.
He's wonderful.

I told him if everyone were like us three guys in the room, I was sure we wouldn't need any rules. In a world of just us three guys, nobody would give a damn about stupid stuff like taxes and poor people and other people taking credit for your works and showing your boobs and best friends forever and stuff. We'd just do what we all wanted, and we all had good intentions, and nobody would hurt anybody else. I thought covering up your body with clothes, especially, was pretty pointless.

My friend said he wasn't so sure. He would sometimes push other people out of his way to get what he wanted.
So I told him then we could kill everyone like him, and it would just be people like me and that other guy.
My friend told me I sounded like a cult leader.