I know a lot of people won't read all this. but it would mean a lot if you would.
I'm going to an AFI concert tomorrow. And I'm ridiculously excited. They're probably one of my favorite bands.
Now okay, don't laugh. Really. Here's why this is important.
It was around this time of year, maybe a month or so earlier, when it wasn't quite as cold yet, when I saw them live. Three years ago, Emmet and Sarah and Sarah's friend (Annaliese? Maybe? Maybe not...) were dropped off in front of the dingy front of the Aragon Ballroom. Sarah's dad, the driver, told us to have fun and drove off. Now we could mention Sarah's lip ring again, if we wanted to. The line already stretched around the corner of the venue, and we met up with more people that Sarah and Emmet knew, people that would be important to them later, pretending we'd gone to get something, hoping the people behind us wouldn't hate us for cutting. Degnan was really loud and hyper. I was really shy and didn't know what to say or do to all these people I'd just met, sort of, who were way cooler than I was in my stupid boots, my stupid skirt, whatever I was wearing. Some girls behind us were wearing wings. I thought that that was pretty cool. Sarah thought it was pretty lame.
It was cold, but whatever. It wasn't too cold yet, it wasn't like premature winter. It was just cold fall. We sat under the Red Line, on grass-cracked parking barriers, watching the line grow, listening to rumors about Jade in the Starbucks across the street. I didn't really care to go see. I mean, I'd only heard a couple of their songs before from Emmet, and the ones he gave me I really liked. But I didn't own the album or anything, I was going because I liked concerts, I guess.
We finally got to go in, we stood around, we waited. We got a spot nice and close to the front, which was awesome. That's always awesome. There was some instrumental band opening, I didn't really pay any attention to them. Bleeding Through was next, they were way too metal for me. I didn't really like it, it was too abrasive, it was too heavy. Emmet totally loved it, though, he threw up the horns a couple of times and nudged me and smiled when he noticed I wasn't really doing anything. "Come on! It's fun!" But I didn't want to. I felt stupid just existing, if I threw up the horns the feeling would intensify and I'd feel so dumb and awkward it'd course through my veins like embarrassed electricity and I'd have to hide my face, curl up into a ball, paralyzed for doing something like that. No overt displays of emotion, nothing really, especially never in front of people.
And then, after we waited, after people filed in and in and in into every available inch of space, after our air was already grow hot and humid, the lights went out. A mad cheer went up from the crowd, and I had no idea what I was about to see. Fog rolled in on stage. Bass drums pounded, a slow driving rhythm. Then Davey walked out onto the stage, and apart from the U2 concert I went to with my parents, my heart went all a-flutter, fangirl style ("Oh my god, that's him! In person!") and I couldn't stop from squealing, just a little bit. Everyone started chanting, and I had no idea what they were saying. I mean, I didn't have the album, I could barely make out the words, I didn't know until later that everyone was screaming "Love! Your hate! Your! Faith lost! You! Are now! One! Of us!"
And then it all just let loose.
I don't even remember what they played. The Leaving Song, Pt II, for sure. They played Silver and Cold, which I knew because it was sort of what I considered mine and Emmet's "song." (no comments, please.) They played Dancing Through Sunday, they played...they played a lot of things, over an hour and a half set. I didn't know what most of the songs were, but it didn't matter. With Emmet's arms wrapped around my middle, holding off the pressing suffocating crowds for me, so I could enjoy the show, I belted out the lyrics I knew along with the crowd. It was fucking freedom like I'd never felt it before, to lose myself in the energy of the crowd and the band, to pour out myself without abandon through the sounds coursing out of my throat, to pretend like I was the only one singing in the world while riding up on the fire of a hundred people around me doing the same thing. I closed my eyes and sang, sang and lost my voice in a million others, giving me the power to bleed out pure emotion without being self-conscious about it, for once. We couldn't breathe. We couldn't move - although I could, a little, thanks to Emmet's being there for me. We were hot and sweaty and disgusting and it didn't matter, none of it mattered at all.
Eventually it was over. I couldn't speak too well anymore, my throat was strained. I got picked up by my mom, we stayed in a hotel downtown that night. Sarah and Emmet and everyone got to meet Jade, and I was really jealous of them. Later I found out that Emmet had purposely been holding on to me so that I could enjoy the concert, and I got pissed and the wind went out of my sails, it clearly meant that I hadn't enjoyed the concert on my own terms. That was dumb as shit. I'm sorry. I appreciate that now, I was messed up in stupid issues then. But after the show, the night we were driving back and when I went to sleep on the fold-out couch, I felt a beautiful downwind from the show, from the emotional release that was slowly fading out, and I went to bed with a lot of gross sweat encrusted on my body, and I didn't care at all.
I bought the album later. UK import version, from eBay, so that I could have the two extra tracks I loved so much. I listened to it for more or less all of sophomore year, during all of the cold weather. On the train, sitting behind the green window and watching rain slip down it on the outside, I listened to The Leaving Song, Bleed Black, Silver and Cold. At home, rocking out, I listened to This Celluloid Dream and learned part of it on guitar. I once couldn't stop myself from dancing and spinning, the perfect physical expression of the part I heard, listening to Synesthesia in my basement. Walking from the 60 stop to the doors inside Ignatius, walking quickly to try and get out of the miserable cold and walking slowly so I could make the song last, I listened to Dancing Through Sunday, one of the songs I'd missed before buying the CD. I'd pass Holy Family Church with my feet in the snow when the solo kicked in, and I'd try to hide a burgeoning smile welling up onto my face, trying to contain my limbs from going wild, as I pictured my band introducing their cover of the song, myself switching from lead to backup vocals depending on the day, and then me going wild on the solo in front of everyone I'd ever wanted to impress, surprising them all with my unknown guitar skills, grinning with joy as I pulled off the solo note for note, perfectly. Not like that's changed at all.
So tomorrow I'm going to go see AFI in Sayreville, northern Jersey.
I hope it's a good show.
(and, this is the first thing I've written in a very long time. please forgive me. really. please.)
Now okay, don't laugh. Really. Here's why this is important.
It was around this time of year, maybe a month or so earlier, when it wasn't quite as cold yet, when I saw them live. Three years ago, Emmet and Sarah and Sarah's friend (Annaliese? Maybe? Maybe not...) were dropped off in front of the dingy front of the Aragon Ballroom. Sarah's dad, the driver, told us to have fun and drove off. Now we could mention Sarah's lip ring again, if we wanted to. The line already stretched around the corner of the venue, and we met up with more people that Sarah and Emmet knew, people that would be important to them later, pretending we'd gone to get something, hoping the people behind us wouldn't hate us for cutting. Degnan was really loud and hyper. I was really shy and didn't know what to say or do to all these people I'd just met, sort of, who were way cooler than I was in my stupid boots, my stupid skirt, whatever I was wearing. Some girls behind us were wearing wings. I thought that that was pretty cool. Sarah thought it was pretty lame.
It was cold, but whatever. It wasn't too cold yet, it wasn't like premature winter. It was just cold fall. We sat under the Red Line, on grass-cracked parking barriers, watching the line grow, listening to rumors about Jade in the Starbucks across the street. I didn't really care to go see. I mean, I'd only heard a couple of their songs before from Emmet, and the ones he gave me I really liked. But I didn't own the album or anything, I was going because I liked concerts, I guess.
We finally got to go in, we stood around, we waited. We got a spot nice and close to the front, which was awesome. That's always awesome. There was some instrumental band opening, I didn't really pay any attention to them. Bleeding Through was next, they were way too metal for me. I didn't really like it, it was too abrasive, it was too heavy. Emmet totally loved it, though, he threw up the horns a couple of times and nudged me and smiled when he noticed I wasn't really doing anything. "Come on! It's fun!" But I didn't want to. I felt stupid just existing, if I threw up the horns the feeling would intensify and I'd feel so dumb and awkward it'd course through my veins like embarrassed electricity and I'd have to hide my face, curl up into a ball, paralyzed for doing something like that. No overt displays of emotion, nothing really, especially never in front of people.
And then, after we waited, after people filed in and in and in into every available inch of space, after our air was already grow hot and humid, the lights went out. A mad cheer went up from the crowd, and I had no idea what I was about to see. Fog rolled in on stage. Bass drums pounded, a slow driving rhythm. Then Davey walked out onto the stage, and apart from the U2 concert I went to with my parents, my heart went all a-flutter, fangirl style ("Oh my god, that's him! In person!") and I couldn't stop from squealing, just a little bit. Everyone started chanting, and I had no idea what they were saying. I mean, I didn't have the album, I could barely make out the words, I didn't know until later that everyone was screaming "Love! Your hate! Your! Faith lost! You! Are now! One! Of us!"
And then it all just let loose.
I don't even remember what they played. The Leaving Song, Pt II, for sure. They played Silver and Cold, which I knew because it was sort of what I considered mine and Emmet's "song." (no comments, please.) They played Dancing Through Sunday, they played...they played a lot of things, over an hour and a half set. I didn't know what most of the songs were, but it didn't matter. With Emmet's arms wrapped around my middle, holding off the pressing suffocating crowds for me, so I could enjoy the show, I belted out the lyrics I knew along with the crowd. It was fucking freedom like I'd never felt it before, to lose myself in the energy of the crowd and the band, to pour out myself without abandon through the sounds coursing out of my throat, to pretend like I was the only one singing in the world while riding up on the fire of a hundred people around me doing the same thing. I closed my eyes and sang, sang and lost my voice in a million others, giving me the power to bleed out pure emotion without being self-conscious about it, for once. We couldn't breathe. We couldn't move - although I could, a little, thanks to Emmet's being there for me. We were hot and sweaty and disgusting and it didn't matter, none of it mattered at all.
Eventually it was over. I couldn't speak too well anymore, my throat was strained. I got picked up by my mom, we stayed in a hotel downtown that night. Sarah and Emmet and everyone got to meet Jade, and I was really jealous of them. Later I found out that Emmet had purposely been holding on to me so that I could enjoy the concert, and I got pissed and the wind went out of my sails, it clearly meant that I hadn't enjoyed the concert on my own terms. That was dumb as shit. I'm sorry. I appreciate that now, I was messed up in stupid issues then. But after the show, the night we were driving back and when I went to sleep on the fold-out couch, I felt a beautiful downwind from the show, from the emotional release that was slowly fading out, and I went to bed with a lot of gross sweat encrusted on my body, and I didn't care at all.
I bought the album later. UK import version, from eBay, so that I could have the two extra tracks I loved so much. I listened to it for more or less all of sophomore year, during all of the cold weather. On the train, sitting behind the green window and watching rain slip down it on the outside, I listened to The Leaving Song, Bleed Black, Silver and Cold. At home, rocking out, I listened to This Celluloid Dream and learned part of it on guitar. I once couldn't stop myself from dancing and spinning, the perfect physical expression of the part I heard, listening to Synesthesia in my basement. Walking from the 60 stop to the doors inside Ignatius, walking quickly to try and get out of the miserable cold and walking slowly so I could make the song last, I listened to Dancing Through Sunday, one of the songs I'd missed before buying the CD. I'd pass Holy Family Church with my feet in the snow when the solo kicked in, and I'd try to hide a burgeoning smile welling up onto my face, trying to contain my limbs from going wild, as I pictured my band introducing their cover of the song, myself switching from lead to backup vocals depending on the day, and then me going wild on the solo in front of everyone I'd ever wanted to impress, surprising them all with my unknown guitar skills, grinning with joy as I pulled off the solo note for note, perfectly. Not like that's changed at all.
So tomorrow I'm going to go see AFI in Sayreville, northern Jersey.
I hope it's a good show.
(and, this is the first thing I've written in a very long time. please forgive me. really. please.)