immediately afterwords, i lay on the deck of the back porch, staring upward, as if you could get further... up. or in any direction.
the thing about music is that it is the loudest thing.
all other things can both literally and metaphorically be boring/dulled by it.
do not mistake this show for some "passionate musician" playing a "great set" for some fucked up teenagers.
although it was also this. but 2nd.
the musicians were not famous, names unknown, people fucking with their equipment before their set. they were part of the tribe, dancing as well, in the middle, pushed around. not the center, only the source. the aliens spoke to them, not us, but we all heard the good word from outerspace.
and i wish i was the silent type to not try and put that night into words, to leave it for the man upstairs to meditate on with a finger up his ass. but, fuck that, ima try and explain what i can so that we can fuckin make something of it, besides "fuck, what now?" or at least all look at eachother and high-five, and stick our fingers in our butts, and smile.
i brought a few people to the show... my friend natalie, who i was dating at the time took this video, i assume on her phone. it is my favorite video on youtube. it is my favorite video of rasputins secret police, it is my favorite piece of video evidence of what my generation is/was/will be.
a bunch of insecure, eternally-emotionally-fucked-up-from-middle-school, stoned kids in a basement listening to what the weird, tall kid has to say.
and he didnt write a speech, he just mumbled some shit really loud.
i guess i have no point, but i'll make one up cause that's what they taught me:
let's not forget why we are here. let's not forget the things that made it so, without a doubt, clear to us that we do not feel the same way as most. it is not that we do not care but that we dont give a fuck.
and we care too much.
here: watch it some more