everytime you close your eyes
for such a nite that connot be summed into words, i will try to capitalize on the forgetfulness of immediacy and the currency of past days.
those are the terms that i would use to sum up such an in-equatable time ive had; this last nite and the last few months of my sweet short life (as mick jagger would put it). we arrived at the show just in time to miss the opening acts; which is something i usually enjoy except the secret machines were opening this time, and they are a band i would not mind seeing at all. interpol was incredible, which is guessable, but the show was incredibly short and i could've stood there for another day listening to them. the crowd was worse then usual (an expected effect to a band whose rise to fame is higher everyday), and i stood among the ingrates (people ahead of me were holding their hands over their ears) breathing in the 3rd-wave mouth air. a surrounding i willfully put myself through in protest of missing a performance like tonite. they were fantastic. everytime i see them i am more drawn-in, which is a seemingly hard task for someone who is already swimming in their music.
after the non-smoking performance (which i smoked at) we headed to kinkoras for a refresher beer and relaxation, knowing the after-party would be lame and only progressively get better as the nite went on. then, after a quick stop at my place to smoke green, we went to chop suey, the after-party headquarters, and i was carded with a greeting of 'last call'. got my duty-due PBR filled plastic cup, and intrinsically starting walking to the right side of the bar.
as i fixed my scope to see carlos dj-ing, i then laid my weary eyes on paul banks, standing by the wall with more than enough admirers surrounding him. it was like he was the king of the highschool prom. i fixed myself in such away to approach him, froze, lit another cigarette, walked back over, and sort of just started talking to him. i told him i think he is phenomenal and gave him my interpol officer's badge which ive been wearing for about a year.
he asked me where i got it from, and i told him my interest in socialism, the presence of spies and such, and the hunting for such relics of symbolism.
and of course the force and presence of international police falls into the conspicuous duties of such an officer, band singer or not.
i told him if anyone should be wearing this it should be him, and i got a personalized paul banks smile.
anyways, after that the bar started to give the last warnings of closure and i said 'blah blah you are wonderful its weird to meet you in such a retarded bar' and chatted about the medal and left in quite a rush, as i usually do, so as not to further alienate myself from an already strange situation.
verdict: in person he is just as mesmerizing, just as brilliant and mysterious as ive known he would be.
he looks you dead in the eye when you speak.
he is gentle and conveys an essence of other-worldly qualities, ones you read about in F. Scott Fitzgerald.
YEAH.
i left with more air in my lungs, more conviction in my heart (not necessarily for him, but the heavy weight of heart conviction), and a deep yearning for a truthful outcome in my life. the stories that become reality are more bizarre than the ones i imagine in song and prose, which i guess is perfectly fitting as i look further back to a certainly naive side of myself. one that i struggle to leave farther and farther behind in my still incredibly hopeful scope of vision.
i am going to sleep now, with certain fires put out, and certain fires fueled.
v M
PS - without wonderful melissa at my side, i would have crumpled like last week's newspaper after timultous rains!
THANK YOU MEL!
those are the terms that i would use to sum up such an in-equatable time ive had; this last nite and the last few months of my sweet short life (as mick jagger would put it). we arrived at the show just in time to miss the opening acts; which is something i usually enjoy except the secret machines were opening this time, and they are a band i would not mind seeing at all. interpol was incredible, which is guessable, but the show was incredibly short and i could've stood there for another day listening to them. the crowd was worse then usual (an expected effect to a band whose rise to fame is higher everyday), and i stood among the ingrates (people ahead of me were holding their hands over their ears) breathing in the 3rd-wave mouth air. a surrounding i willfully put myself through in protest of missing a performance like tonite. they were fantastic. everytime i see them i am more drawn-in, which is a seemingly hard task for someone who is already swimming in their music.
after the non-smoking performance (which i smoked at) we headed to kinkoras for a refresher beer and relaxation, knowing the after-party would be lame and only progressively get better as the nite went on. then, after a quick stop at my place to smoke green, we went to chop suey, the after-party headquarters, and i was carded with a greeting of 'last call'. got my duty-due PBR filled plastic cup, and intrinsically starting walking to the right side of the bar.
as i fixed my scope to see carlos dj-ing, i then laid my weary eyes on paul banks, standing by the wall with more than enough admirers surrounding him. it was like he was the king of the highschool prom. i fixed myself in such away to approach him, froze, lit another cigarette, walked back over, and sort of just started talking to him. i told him i think he is phenomenal and gave him my interpol officer's badge which ive been wearing for about a year.
he asked me where i got it from, and i told him my interest in socialism, the presence of spies and such, and the hunting for such relics of symbolism.
and of course the force and presence of international police falls into the conspicuous duties of such an officer, band singer or not.
i told him if anyone should be wearing this it should be him, and i got a personalized paul banks smile.
anyways, after that the bar started to give the last warnings of closure and i said 'blah blah you are wonderful its weird to meet you in such a retarded bar' and chatted about the medal and left in quite a rush, as i usually do, so as not to further alienate myself from an already strange situation.
verdict: in person he is just as mesmerizing, just as brilliant and mysterious as ive known he would be.
he looks you dead in the eye when you speak.
he is gentle and conveys an essence of other-worldly qualities, ones you read about in F. Scott Fitzgerald.
YEAH.
i left with more air in my lungs, more conviction in my heart (not necessarily for him, but the heavy weight of heart conviction), and a deep yearning for a truthful outcome in my life. the stories that become reality are more bizarre than the ones i imagine in song and prose, which i guess is perfectly fitting as i look further back to a certainly naive side of myself. one that i struggle to leave farther and farther behind in my still incredibly hopeful scope of vision.
i am going to sleep now, with certain fires put out, and certain fires fueled.
v M
PS - without wonderful melissa at my side, i would have crumpled like last week's newspaper after timultous rains!
THANK YOU MEL!