Hilarious: Star Fucking Hipsters “Gilman Vomit Story”

So the news is still pretty slow, and probably will be until after the new year, but here’s something that should entertain you all for a few minutes.  It’s a story from Sturg of Star Fucking Hipsters and as the title of this post suggests, it’s to do with vomit and a show played at the famous Gilman St. venue in Northern California.

Read it here (warning: do not eat and read at the same time).

The Gilman Street Vomit Story:

So, I was hoping that we could get some footage posted on this event, but it’s been a couple of months & although I know this footage exists out there somewhere (I saw video cameras filming), my first hand account will have to suffice for now:

The date is November 6th 2009 I believe & we were playing a packed gig with bands like La Plebe & our texan tour-mates Molotov Compromise, plus, headlining after us was the amazing Citizen Fish, all the way from England. We were about half-way through our set & we start to play “two cups of tea” which is one of the only songs that I don’t play guitar all the way through on, just during the choruses & during Franks “guitharpsichord” solo. I believe it was right before his first solo when a large (grocery sized” plastic bag full of liquid that had been tied nice & tight, like a giant water-balloon is chucked at me from the front of the audience & I don’t know if the guy had done this before, or if he was just super-lucky, but the bag hits me square between my guitar/stomach & my chest, right in the middle really & the thing immediately explodes all over me, my guitar, my pants & my neck & face.

I keep singing as my mind starts wandering as to what this cold liquid with such a familiar scent is as it starts to burn my eye & I’m kind of spitting it out of my mouth, still trying to keep up with the song, I believe that Frank starts his solo as I look over to Nico saying things like “what is this?” “why does it smell so familiar?”. Nico looks back at me & says very matter of factly over the P.A. “Um, that’s vomit”. So, for a few seconds I continue to sing along with the song as my eyes are afire with this foul concoction, I remember thinking how could this be so much vomit? & as I’m singing & the thought of what has happened dawns on me, I spy with my little burnt eye on the little curvy part of my guitar on the body where I strum the strings… a little chunk of undigested onion & it sweeps over me that I am literally drenched in one or more people actual vomit. I mean, this shit is everywhere.

So as I’m trying to sing, I start to gag a little, in between song lines, I start gagging more & when the complete picture of what has happened sweeps my imagination into the very real place that I am, my mouth waters & I chuck up a tiny bit of foam. I know that there is more coming so I step away from the mic & then throw-up what could only be called ONE handfull of puke & then finally on my third & final round (luckily I had eaten hours before, so I didn’t have much in my stomach) I sprout out about a pint-full onto a few of the kids up against the stage in front of me (I think I had justified it by that point as ‘these kids had stood by as another kid pushed through them to deliver his “gift with perfect accuracy).

Anyways, I take a sip of water & rub my guitar down with a bandanna, take off my shirt, chit-chat with the audience about who & why this had happened, but I really wasn’t angry. I mean, how could I be? We were in my favorite club in the world, playing with the band that I had seen on the very same stage in ’91 or ’92, subsequently being my first D.I.Y./Bay-Area/Ska-Punk show ever, pretty much the very inspiration for what I have been doing for the last half, maybe a bit more, of my life. It was fucking punk & in a punk club & I will never, ever forget it!

In retrospect, I only feel sorry for the Gilman volunteers that had to wipe the puke up after the show. Not only did the kid get me, my pants, my eyes, mouth, shirt & guitar, but he also managed to get it all over my guitar case & inside my hoody that was all 4 feet behind me, while missing everything else owned by everybody, including the expansive musical gear that we were borrowing that evening.

The next week I was in Melbourne, Australia with Leftover Crack talking to a girl that happens to be friends with the vomit-chucker (we have also been in touch since, it turns out that he was drinking early that day & at some point decided to vomit in a big shopping bag for me, his explanation wasn’t completely coherent, he admitted that he love/hated me & my bands & that he didn’t think too much about the whole thing, but he sure did accomplish it & if I had to rate him on dedication & accuracy, I would have to give him an A+ ). I told her to tell him that there were no hurt feelings & that it made a wonderful night into a memory that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

That’s not to say that I want people to throw vomit, bottles, punches, shoes or any of the other buffet of things (in the vomit case, it could have literally been an all-you-can-eat buffet) that have been thrown at me, just in the last two months alone (Australia was exceptionally good/bad about throwing things, depending on how you write the sentence about those 7 shows).

For the Grossest part! aka “the PUNCH-LINE”!

I taked to a number of people after we had played & then after Citizen Fish was done & as it happened (& I’m not sure if the moment can be pin-pointed or if it was different for different people) when the vomit hit me & then I threw-up from the vomit, from what I heard from at least ten different people (& I assume more did this without informing me) threw up as well. As I recall, there were at least 400 people in the place & the series of events seemed to have set off a little bit of a vomit-a-thon amongst the crowd members.

I would like to think of it as the scene in the movie adaptation of the pseudonym penned Stephen King story/movie “Stand by Me” where the pie contest turns into a town vomit-fest.

Luckily I got to do laundry two days later as it would of gotten a lot more disgusting if I had to ware the same clothes for another week or so. The thing tha really grabbed my stomache later on was the stories in the book “Gimme something better” about “Richard the Roadie” & his hygene habits (I thought I was a filthy motherfucker!) & the part where he doesn’t take his shoes off for a year because he’s perpetually on tour & his feet stink. You have to read this, it is hands sown the most disgusting thing I’ve read about in a decade at least. The book info is below & for all of the petty complaints about how “punk” I am, you should read about the shit that these folks pulled off in the bay-area throughout the 80’s & perhaps to this very day.

I would love to hear any second-hand versions of this story or see any footage of it as I don’t want to exaggerate just how defiling this event was, but from what I’ve been told, it was pretty fucking nasty.
I will say that if this becomes a fad or people start throwing shit (literally), I will become a violent nightmare to deal with & I will have what is essentially the size of three baseball bats to “hit a home-run with”. On a positive note, Gilman security said that they were surprised & thankful for how I handled the situation & I really appreciated that.
Other stuff?

I can’t remember right now. We’re playing in Pittsburgh the day before we meet up with AntiFlag for a few shows & expect to see the long-awaited video for “3,000 miles away” in the next week or two.
Have a jolly new year & sing a song of kindness!

strg & SFH