Wednesday, 28 August 2002 | Bank

The man who was helping me open my checking account at my new bank accidentally told me his boss uses a bank other than the one we were sitting in. I spent the majority of yesterday's lunch hour watching the man poke at the keyboard with one hand, click the wrong buttons repeatedly, and wave over his coworkers to help him process my information. (And today I watched my friend Lisa discover and fill out an online form that produced the same results in only 5 minutes.) I'm looking forward to when I finally get my ATM card, so I can stop walking through the bustling McDonald's, past the tables of bright balled up paper and greasy food, up the stairs and around the corner to use the discount ATM, which really isn't a deal at all.

***

Tonight I went to see a band called Soviet, made up of five people, three of whom played keyboards. Being there was like visiting the 80s, but as an adult. Lots of spiky, fringy hair, and a few turned-up collars. In a place like that, it's easy to be aware of two or three people who seem to create the atmosphere for the entire place. They may not be the most attractive or the most unusually dressed, but for some reason they stand out, and they give the impression that the show wouldn't be the same without them there. Of course, if they weren't there, you would never know it.

I didn't realize how loud the concert had been until I walked into my apartment. But suddenly my head is ringing.