2 posts tagged “concerts”
Went and saw the Cramps last night. Great show. Lux didn't disappoint, with his writhing on the floor and making out with the microphone. And Poison Ivy has really aged well. But the interesting aspect of the show was feeling young one minute and old the next.
For example:
Young moment:
The guy next to me smoking cloves. I haven't had a clove in probably 15
years. The smell took me back to a time of idiotic pontificating in
coffee shops.
Old moment:
The guy next to me smoking the cloves was probably 34. Dude. Aren't you
a little old for that? Leave the cloves to the kids who have the
ignorance and the lung power to handle it.
Young moment:
Feeling extremely happy that there was not seating on the floor, as I initially thought. Yay. I can stand and actually see.
Old moment:
Standing for two hours. I'm not sure when the appeal of sitting down at
a concert kicked in, but I'd say somewhere around my 30th birthday.
Young moment:
The excitement that the mosh pit formed extremely close to me. Gave me
a better view of the moshing and if I felt like jumping in, it was
right there.
Old moment:
A mosh pit forming extremely close to me. No way in hell am I jumping
into that. And nobody better accidentally slam into me. I will not be
amused.
Young moment:
Feeling anxiety that security was standing right behind me, breathing
down my neck. I don't need "the man" standing that close to me.
Old moment:
Thank God security's this close to me, so when those miscreants in the pit get out of hand, they can throw them out.
Young moment:
Worrying that those in the mosh pit would slam into me and cause me to
spill my beer, because beer is precious and a sweet nectar of the gods.
Old moment:
Worry that those in the mosh pit would slam into me and cause me to
spill my beer all over me, ruining my clothes, or at least
leaving me smelling like a brewery all night.
Young moment:
Dancing and grooving right along with the crowd, letting the music take over my feet.
Old moment:
Music taking over the feet of the guy in front of me, causing him to
step on my little ballet flat-clad feet with his Docs. On my
ingrown toenail. Bastard.
Young moment:
Watching the 4'11, 17-year-old blonde girl literally kicking some guy in the ass and thinking "Go, girl."
Old moment:
Watching the 4'11, 17-year-old blonde girl literally kicking some guy
in the ass and thinking, "Well, that's hardly classy behavior"
Young moment:
Being amidst all the teenagers and feeling like I'm just as young as they are.
Old moment:
Being amidst all the teenagers and realizing that not only am I old
enough to be some of their mothers, they probably look at me as the
old, unhip chick who has filtrated their good time.
All in all, though, the show was fun. Saw a ton of friends I don't see very often. Saw a fine cover of Count Five's "Psychotic Reaction." And I may be old, but at least I'm legal to drink, so that earned me some modicum of teenage envy. (I had more sense than to dip my toe in the pool of drinking 7&7s again) And besides, I think I'd rather die than be 15 again.
See these shoes?
These shoes were purchased in 1989 in some back alley store in Dallas. They were Docs (well, they still are) when finding Docs wasn't as easy as going to the mall. You had to research it. Anyway, these shoes have been to many, many, many concerts with me. And they've been to many cities. And they've hung out with all kinds of people. They are the security blanket of shoes.
These shoes have seen the Cure in concert. They've seen New Order in concert. They've seen U2, Elvis Costello, the Violent Femmes, the Sugarcubes, Interpol and REM. They've seen X and Crowded House and Possum Dixon and Material Issue. They've seen Tripping Daisy more times than should be allowed by law. They've seen Siouxsie and the Banshees and they've seen Jane's Addiction and they've seen Depeche Mode. And last night, they saw the Brian Jonestown Massacre.
BJM was great. They played for 2 and a half hours. This would be outstanding, if they hadn't wrapped it up somwhere around 2 a.m. On a school night. Here's a picture from the show. It was taken at 1:52 a.m.
However, today, I felt like ass. I felt like a college kid with a keg party hangover. I went and got a chili dog at lunch. No, it is not on my diet. But my body screamed for grease. The offending 7&7s are also the reason I'm wearing the Docs today. They're lucky I made it into work. I'll dress for comfort, thanks.
And, if being on three hours of sleep with a raging cheap whiskey-induced hangover wasn't bad enough, this is what greeted me on the way to work:
I'm going home now and crawling in bed. I'll need a few days to recover from my ridiculous stunt. Ah, but it was worth it. Great music, great friends. I'll take the hangover.
