Fantasy & (reality)
i got a free ticket to the strokes concert last night. i went with my dear emily and stood by the entrance close to the stage, away from the crowd. i stood in the middle of the threshold, smiling, laughing nodding my head at the stroke's drunken antics. it was flashback to middle-school fanaticism, i was the giggling school girl (trying to make eye contact with the lead singer)...and he was looking my way as he sang. *insert girly gush.
make no mistake, i was purely aware of the fantastical nature of my mental state, it was a pre-teen reaction to the glorified man on stage. it was a fantasy...until he jumped off stage. security tried to pull him back, people crowded around him...and he made his way towards where emily and i stood. me? he came to see me?! (i'd like to think--and thus fantasy consumed me). A couple feet from my face: drunken, drugged, frustrated, sweating, long haired, tight pants, julian casablancas. i wanted to go up to him and smell him. hah. and one of the security guys asked him "what are you doing", they pulled him back and he breathed into the microphone "I'm seeing the show..."
intentionally or not, he shook me up. for a split second he provided me with a break from reality. a break from habit, beaurocracy, normality, formalities. and i sucked that shit up like a hearty line of coke.
why do i feel like i'm in middle-school again? where does fantasy end and why can't i get back to reality?
at work now, smelling of alcohol, feeling the crisp-clean sanitized formal reality of being a switchboard attendant.
make no mistake, i was purely aware of the fantastical nature of my mental state, it was a pre-teen reaction to the glorified man on stage. it was a fantasy...until he jumped off stage. security tried to pull him back, people crowded around him...and he made his way towards where emily and i stood. me? he came to see me?! (i'd like to think--and thus fantasy consumed me). A couple feet from my face: drunken, drugged, frustrated, sweating, long haired, tight pants, julian casablancas. i wanted to go up to him and smell him. hah. and one of the security guys asked him "what are you doing", they pulled him back and he breathed into the microphone "I'm seeing the show..."
intentionally or not, he shook me up. for a split second he provided me with a break from reality. a break from habit, beaurocracy, normality, formalities. and i sucked that shit up like a hearty line of coke.
why do i feel like i'm in middle-school again? where does fantasy end and why can't i get back to reality?
at work now, smelling of alcohol, feeling the crisp-clean sanitized formal reality of being a switchboard attendant.