coordinates: 3, 10
Monday night, I spent the evening 3 blocks from my house, 10 rows back from the stage, being absolutely blown away by Mumford and Sons.
I intended to write about the concert right away, and now I've waited too long and will fall into cliches. But I still want to say something.
For one thing, I put some new words to the way I've already felt about live music. Or maybe I just understand the feeling slightly better now: I want to be with people, but I want to experience live music--especially really fucking good live music--by myself. Individually. Internally. Selfishly. Not with the self-consciousness of wondering whether I should be dancing more. (Or less.) Not with the expectation that I should acknowledge the responses of others except when I want to. Not with any small fragment of hope that anyone else at the concert can feel the music in the same way I do. Alone: intensely alone.
On the other hand, though, here's a small effort to try to hold on to just one moment: the band, unplugged, standing shoulder to shoulder, making me hear anew lyrics I've heard a hundred times before and never heard at all.
Death is at your doorstep / And it will steal your innocence / But it will not steal your substance.
I intended to write about the concert right away, and now I've waited too long and will fall into cliches. But I still want to say something.
For one thing, I put some new words to the way I've already felt about live music. Or maybe I just understand the feeling slightly better now: I want to be with people, but I want to experience live music--especially really fucking good live music--by myself. Individually. Internally. Selfishly. Not with the self-consciousness of wondering whether I should be dancing more. (Or less.) Not with the expectation that I should acknowledge the responses of others except when I want to. Not with any small fragment of hope that anyone else at the concert can feel the music in the same way I do. Alone: intensely alone.
On the other hand, though, here's a small effort to try to hold on to just one moment: the band, unplugged, standing shoulder to shoulder, making me hear anew lyrics I've heard a hundred times before and never heard at all.
Death is at your doorstep / And it will steal your innocence / But it will not steal your substance.
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