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design | host "Actually, my name's asshole!" - Billie Joe Armstrong my hair is filthy. I havn't showered yet... and most of what i'm covered in isn't even mine. That's right bitches. I'm going to brag about the concert. We were in the fucking pit. Me, my sister, her little friend natasha and my mom. pity pity, sister's boyfriend couldn't come-- as his mother has a stick up her ass. So we were in the pit, and suddenly after so much waiting and jumping up and down with excitement, it was time to stand up because the show was starting. My Chemical Romance puts on one hell of a show. it was a first mosh pit for everyone in my group but me. The lead singer, (IS THE BLOOD MINE?) Gerard way, is quite the slice of cutie pie. If he had asked, we could have totally had unprotected intercourse. just kidding? He asked all of the women in the whole place to holler at him, and then asked us to do him a favor. he said that we might meet some guys in a band sort of like his... (only not quite as well dressed,) and if they say to us 'show me your tits and we'll give you backstage passes' to spit in their faces, "Because you're better than that, ladies!" <3aw. The pit started to get pretty crazy right from the get-go, and i may or may not have been impregnated. we'll see how that turns out. I did my share of screaming and moaning... whether from sheer excitement or from someone's arm lodged in my kidney really has no significance. I must show off my bruises before they heal. I love thrusting my fucking fist in the fucking air in time with the music. i love jumping up and down because that's the only way to express how fucking happy it makes me. they played a slow song, and lighters and cell phones went up in the air. According to Gerard Way, "That's fucking beautiful." they played "I'm not okay (I promis)" and everyone just went apeshit. that song is so much fun. but then they were over and you know what happens after that. you know you know what happens after that. Green Day has a big guy in a pinkk rabbit suit to come out and rev up the crowd before they go on. he chugs two or three beers and starts a chant. It's impossible to explain how it feels to know you're about to see the object of your obsession. at this point i was in what we'll call the second row. I refused to be moved. There's a runway at the end of the stage for Bille Joe's shenanigans (if you can excuse the allusion/pun) and i was right on the left of it... if we're using stage directions. i had 1 arm on the rail, but these HUGE guys wouldn't let the rest of me sqeeze by. so second row is where i stayed. Holy damn everyone. i was close enough to see the fucking sweat on his forehead. I was almost close enough to touch him. I think he looked at me. he did that thing again where he moans and sticks his hands down his pants like he's going to jack off right on stage then shouts "WELL SOMEBODY FUCK ME!" i volunteered-- even when he wasn't asking for volunteers. he's married, and he couldn't see me, and it would be totally illegal, but the offer stands. he picked some other bitch to come on stage and play gutiar at that junction in the show... a bitch almost right next to me... because she made a little banner that said ' i play guitar and i'm cute.' screw her. i guess i'm just mad i didn't think of it first. i'll just have to keep seeing them live until i get up there. she gets to keep the guitar, dammit! near the middle and towards the end of the show i'd shifted sideways slightly and was no longer right behind the mean huge guys. I was right behind someone taller than i am, but not so tall as to block my view. because my appendages were pinned and i was incapable of movement, we were quite close. when i got my arm out of the pit and into the air, he didn't mind if i rested it on his shoulder. starting with the slightest of taps innitiated by his hand on mine, i gradually had both arms on his shoulders, shifting positions to hold our hands in various wonderful little ways, and i would rest my head on his shoulder as well since my torso was pinned firmly in place right behind him by hundreds of people. i remember just feeling happy. my head was resting on his shoulder and i could smell sweat and pot and cologne all around... but there was something underneath all of that that can be summed up in three words: "I smell men." it was a good smell. it made me feel good. pheramones or something. I just remember feeling good pressed up against him. My hands went around him onto his chest, feeling him breath and feeling it vibrate when he sang along with the band, and his hands were on top of mine. i could tell it tickled his neck when i sang against him. we swayed with the crowd, just being comfortable with eachother. the next time i go to a concert, i want to have a somebody with me. it was the most wonderful thing... the mutual acceptance of physical contact different in nature from the forced touching and groping in the pit. The show went much faster this time than last time. they didn't play homecoming, but they did play maria. only in the aspect that it was the same band playing a few of the same songs was it the same show. for instance, Norfolk is now the best damn town on the face of the planet as opposed to DC. small things like that. everyone still went fucking crazy at the appropriate parts. i was drenched in sweat, and some of it was mine. before i knew it the encore was over and my idol was walking off stage. again. i was covered in sweat and confetti and the lights were coming on. my green shirted stranger introduced himself. travis. gorgeous travis. He turned to go and gave me a small kiss on the cheek. "If i give you a number, would you call it?" he asked me quietly. i responded in the affirmative, but before i could get his number saved in my phone book my mother kept trying to call me, trying to get everyone un-separated, erasing it each time. i gave him mine, hearing "I'll call you." but not entirly believing it. it was nice while it lasted, whether or not he calls. it's something unpredictable, but in the end is right, i hope you had the time of your life. i was lieing in the hotel room bed, my hair a sweaty tangle, listening to the headboard next door slam against the wall while our neighbors enjoyed a bout (or two?) of fast, loud sex and as a drifted to sleep i just remember feeling happy. i felt that way when i woke up, and i feel that way now. it's going to wear off and i'll be miserable again, but memories are one of the most profound things we have, and i can always tune out and pretend i'm back in that pit. I'm done bragging now... unless you go to my school where i will undoubtedly flaunt my new too small t shirts and fun-related bruises. "That's how we do it in Norfolk, baby!" |
