(----) in Russia Vol.17

You know you're in Russia when, well, there's this guy, who slid into this position over a period of about 30 minutes.


Or this bus.


Or this band is coming to Moscow when their brief seconds of relevance — strictly limited to the Big House viewing of a stolen VHS copy of their "unauthorized" biographical documentary — have long been expired in most of the rest of the world.


Or this strange mannequin is posted up in a shopping center, advertising exactly jack shit.


"Ladies, pt.1"


"Man in training"


"Ladies, pt.2"


So this club called Solyanka had a 50's dance night, complete with swing dancing lessons, greasers, ladies in hoop dresses and rockabilly bands. A DJ followed, clad in horn-rimmed glasses and a cowboy shirt, and rocked the dance floor with Elvis and Carl Perkins cranked up to ear-splitting, bass-distorting proportions.


This band was actually really good. They had their shit together.








Still at Solyanka. This guy opted for the laid-back look rather than embrace the nostalgia. He and his friends are taking shots. After this round, he started drooling.


Ah, the glorious, anonymous truth of graffiti.


All over the city, there are machines through which you can put more money on your phone. We don't have to deal with hellish contracts with Verizon or any of those fuckers. Just put as much money as you want on your phone wherever you are. This machine broke, leaving only this screen with which to greet potential customers.


This band from Portland, OR, called Panther came and played Moscow. They were really good; one guy on guitar, one guy on drums, and a lot of overdubbed tracks via iTunes. Regardless, they brought the energy. People were going nuts.


This is a *little* blurry, but hopefully you can make out the singer leaping off of his vocal monitor with his guitar behind his head.


"Resigned"


My courtyard, 6:30 a.m., during the Big House Partay.


At this huge warehouse club called Arma '09, this DJ, who started his set off with a techno remix of the creepy theme from "Twin Peaks," (not the title theme, but the minor-key synth part that was so often used to indicate menace) was approached on the stage by a roommate, who suggested a few choice cuts to play.


Said roommate was quickly detained by the scruff of his neck by this black-clad security guard.


Chocolate fool.