After Ottobar, Two If By Sea, supposed to be Earlimart but no Earlimart, got TIBS's singer Chris to give e-mail for basement show at Scott's house . . .

In the antechamber of the Double T Diner at one
And the flourescent light puts out rays just too perfect for truth
People there for a meal, or for takeout, or smokes
In the too-defined light with their stereotypes also defined
Indie-girl with her cigarettes and short yellow hair
And sitting across from her, her Indie-girl boyfriend, of course
And the deadbeats, too tired even before thirty
Still primping their hair with their pitiful post high-school minds
There's a tootsie pop stuffed in the toilet drain
The next guy comes in, it's hard to resist making comments
That he'd see as racist, and I'd see as weak jokes
The goths have their table, and near them the stoner-hat hippies
They're not up to the lost hippie potential
One asks to borrow Scott's guitar, and I'm sure that he thinks
He's too cool and laid-back for words
Aren't I the same way, does it change anything that I know it?
Scott's inhaling, says that he wants to float
I let him and inform, between laughs, when he's ready to ash
The television plays, and it's Leno, then Conan
They're laughing at us, and we're laughing, we're laughing at them
How nice of the waitress to stop by tonight
How you guys doin', can I get you two something to drink?
Just a milkshake, I say for Scott, who's far gone
And I get no coffee, all I want is a fruit salad sundae
We'd forgotten Blue Thunder at my house,
So Scott calls his parents and tells them he's going to be late
For once, amazingly, they take it cool
No need for head-drooping bouts of pity and anger
Except for our dumbness in forgetting the car
Scott floats and coughs, and promises no more for a month
Then the food comes, we eat under too-defined light
And is this a rest, a short break from the driving all night?
Or self-consciousness taken dead on, anxious and a month of Sundays?