August 16, 2005


I wrote this 2000 word DEAR DIARY YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE IT post the other day, and thought it posted, thought I was keepin you (who is you? I mean, aside from bloggers, my ex's exes and my mom?) up to effing date, on some real time realness but it went missing like yr boyfriend in the bootyclub, lost to the ether.
It included a detailed recounting which I will now recount again, of a rite of punk passage, albeit belated: I GOT IN A FIGHT AT GILMAN! OH yes, I DID. at the BARR show, with a boy 10 yrs my junior, who was wearing a striped tie and eyeliner, like he was taking the Bronze medal in the Alkaline Trio fash-lympics. But that was and is still currently "beside the point". It was not a physical fight, unless you count that kid rolling his eyes at me. He was yelling SHUDDUP SHUDDUP GET OFF THE STAGE to the young man who is the one-man band This Song Is a Mess But So Am I, which officially is a "concept" band (wrong word, because life and living it is not really a "concept", even in this era of madd ironixx) about -- not about, but more is a TOOL-ART/OUTREACH about this kid's mom dying and his grief. His grief that is over him like a cummulus puff, as he screeeeeams and screeeeams and throws his body into the floor and the into the loud sounds and I am tearing up right now typing about it not because it is so much I am an eazy-cry, but for a lot of reasons but mostly because he WAS grief, that big angry, been robbed, fuck you god kind ABOUT HIS MOM. It is raw-as-heck to swing yr chapped-heart, yr kid spirit begging, like an albatross, from the stage at Gilman. It is also this epic leap of faith to log that/express that/share that with PUNK/BAND as a vehichle.

ANYHOW, that is on stage, and next to me and Brendan was STRIPED TIE KIDLING howling heckles and I am not feeling like there is any room for that to be happening right then, and so I stepped to him, on some personal intervention and asked him why he needed to be doing that and if he does not like it, there is ins and outs, and why does he not just step outside rather than disrespecting the art of another member of his community and the other people watching the show. I am righteous and old, you know, and so I roll like that. Kid and I got into it. We had some words. Then: He asked me how old I was. He thought I was his age. He was trying to disqualify me on some "you just don't get it, little girl" tip, and finally, he did this look-me-up-and-down thing, shook his head and asked "Have you ever been on tour before?" and I said "Yes." He was a touch shocked, like he thought I lived in the stock room at the Gap... He asked "How many times?" I said "This last year, or in my whole life?" and he did this ha-ha yeah right skeptical thing, and says "Yeah, how many in the last year?" and I said "As of next week, six." -- And his face dropped. I do not know what that proved, what dick-move that vaccummed outta his head, what sort of authority that magic SIX proved, that I was not just some bitch quashing his goodtime, that I was the same thing he beleives he is? I am not sure, but, with that, he fumbled and he dropped his PUNK SO HARD thing and avoided my eyes and looked at the ground and ummed and ahhed and said "Wow. Yeah. I have only been on tour five times ever, actually. Um, ok, cool." and he left and went outside with his friend for the rest of the set. He waved by to me when I left, which baffled me but I waved back because peace is "tops". After he walked away Brendan goes "OH MY GOD! DUDE! WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! THAT WAS IN-TENSE!". It was like I won, but am not sure how I won. Maybe the kid knew I was speaking as a veteran heckling shitstir, he could feel my dinosaur-y fuck-the-world vibe eminating from my core, wafting like popcorn scent.

Also great: Adam and Lydia and Mimi and Stella have adopted me like some foriegn-immersion style guest, and I am learning the way of happy punk family . I arrived here right in time for Mimi's 8th birthday party. They fed me cake, showed me to the DSL hook up, showed me a skateboard to borrow, slid me a copy of the Minutemen doc to watch at my leisure, then showed me the drive where they keep their iTunes and said "Please, raid it."Adam loaned me his 65 Jeep Wagooner for the week. They handed me the keys and directions to Gilman. I know it sounds like I died and went to heaven, but I am so alive. So so actually all the way live.

Also: Happy 30th Birthday to that fox Matt Clark.

Posted by Jessica at August 16, 2005 03:52 AM | TrackBack