Tweeting Away

So Long Live The Car-Crash Heart! Cry On The Couch 'Till The Poets Come To Life.

Here's a pretty awesome feeling: it's the day of the concert you've been waiting to see for weeks, possibly even months. The opening act has done its job - it's played its songs to warm up the crowd, in the hopes that one day another up-and-coming band will do this same job for them, and they in turn will be the ones the crowd actually pays to see. There's a buzz of anticipation going around, and you're unconsciously tapping your feet to the random music that's being played as the stage is being set up, or biting your nails, or singing your favorite songs of the band with your seatmate who's also a friend and fellow fan, but deep inside you're just really dying for the whole damn thing to start already.

Then the lights go out. The crowd swells with excitement, everyone's screaming, including you, and you're thinking to yourself, this is it, this is it, this is happening! Your heart's racing and you can't control the smile that's managed to plaster itself on your face. And then it really happens: a pulsating beat starts as the drummer gets going, while lights from the stage go on and off in time to the beat. Then guitars. Then the lead singer comes on, and he's singing lines to a song you know by heart, lines you've listened and sung to countless times, over and over again, and it's strange that you know these lines so well and you're singing along to every word, but at that moment, to you the song is brand new again, and you feel the way you felt when you heard it for the very first time. The crowd is on its feet and it feels like every single soul in that arena is singing to every single line of the song and jumping and dancing to its every beat.

And you get the strangest, most amazing feeling of elation at that very moment, a moment of all moments, because at that point, nothing else matters - not the job you left early today because you had to get to the concert in time, not the errands you'll be running tomorrow, not the job you have to come back to after this weekend. There's no science or logic behind the feeling and the moment, there is nothing else but music, ordinary words strung together with a melody to make an extraordinary song that's made even more extraordinary by the thousands of people that's scream-singing every line to it along with the band who actually started it all.

In an hour or so it ends, and it's all over, but you know it will take at least a week for you to get over the whole experience. And even after that, it's an experience you won't soon forget, and the thought of it - actually, the thought of the feeling you had at that moment - will always manage to put a smile on your face.


So, Fall Out Boy's concert last night was awesome, even if it was already my second time to catch them live. It's Valentine's Day, but for me at this point a rockin' concert trumps this over-commercialized holiday, so I'm going to leave you with one of the lines Mazie and I scream-sang to the most last night:

I'm a loose bolt, of a complete machine. What a match, I'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet. So boycott love! Detox just to retox! And I'd promise you anything for another shot at life. Imperfect boys with their perfect ploys - nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! :)

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