show voyeur.

Since the weather has started getting colder, it has encouraged me to stay inside. I feel like once the summer is gone, that my fun is as well. I haven't ridden through a winter before, and I always play with the idea, but at this juncture I'm not to sure how fond I am of riding through snow, sleet, hail or whatever the fuck Utah's viciously uncertain weather is going to throw at us this season. The colder months I usually find myself inside, trapped in bed with movies and the internet. This fall however, I've been finding myself out and about a bit more. I have been very lucky to already have multiple chances to see quite a few shows, both from local and national bands. 

Tuesday night I found myself at The Complex attending the Sleigh Bells concert. 

I usually stand off to the side, as close to the stage as possible, without crowding anyone or letting myself become crowded. (Other show goers have this incredible ability to invade my prime chilling spots. You bastards.) If you saw me, I wouldn't be smiling or dancing. I would just be chilling. I would probably even look like I was upset or disgusted looking! (I have actually had people mention this to me at a show before) My friends call this a "pissy chill face". But in all honesty I'm concentrating on taking the whole scene that is unfolding in front of me.

I mentioned being into hardcore music in a prior post of mine. My friends and I lived for shows. Friday would roll around and we would get out of class and meet up. We would decide where to eat before a show started. And after we were full of mexican food we would load up into at least three cars and mob deep to the venue. We would dance and laugh and fuck off. I remember one time we had a dice game going in the middle of a show. We really didn't care. We would hurl our bodies around with orchestrated punches and kicks. And it was all because of the music. It was our fuel. Sure we could windmill in the Wal-Mart parking lot, blaring xSHARKPUNCHx as loud as we could out of my friend Alex's Grand Vitara all we wanted and as close it it came sometimes, it would never compare to seeing a show live. You can feel the music. That was about as involved in seeing a participant at a concert as I got. I still catch a hardcore once in awhile, and I won't lie, my heart does race, my palms get sweaty and I get so anxious that my knees shake every time I'm at one and I see the pit going crazy for the band spewing forth noise just for them. I like to think I'm retired from spinkicks and picking up change but back then the music was such a part of me it's hard not to be sentimental. 

I like to watch the scene unfold before me. I used to be so involved in what was happening that I didn't realize how intoxicating it could be to watch the effect of music on a large group of people. These days I'm an avid people watcher and live concerts are most definitely the way to fill my sick need to watch people and what they do. A lot of the time I'm looking at the crowd more than the performers (unless you are Chelsea Wolfe or Alexis Krauss... good lord). The fact that music can make people behave without inhibitions or worries is incredible and this feeling definitely shines through at a show and it is one of the most interesting things to observe. People could be doing anything. Laughing, crying, taking drugs, dancing, kissing or just about any other thing you could imagine someone doing or getting away with. 

I am keeping my eyes open for any opportunity to see live music this winter. 

I am keeping my eyes open for people.

Maybe I'll see you around?

checking back in.

Absent, is how I would describe myself lately. I've been, how would you say... checked out.

When I first started this blog it was with the intention that it would help my writing. Help me sort out my ideas. Maybe help me make sense of things that had happened, were happening or that were to happen. I found that writing was something I really loved, and since starting this blog I have had many incredible opportunities to display my ideas not only on the internet via this blog, but also in print with local mag, Salt Lake Underground. I used to tell someone very special to me that "I would never want writing to become my job, or something I had to do. I think I would end up hating it."

Spilling your ideas onto a piece of paper (screen) is an incredible feeling. Have you ever written out exactly how you feel about something? Explaining exactly what your thoughts are? What drives you to think a certain way? It is cathartic. Find something that drives you. Be it good or bad or sad or happy. Write about it. Explain everything. Write for as long as you need too or until you just can't anymore. Then sit back, and look at what you've put down. Consider how many pages it took, how your words or even your handwriting was affected by what you were feeling, how much time you spent doing it, and so many other countless things only yourself could notice... and I guarantee you will feel better. You will feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, or that you have accomplished something, or that something you have been meaning to say is finally out there and not just in your head. (where things don't make any sense at all.)

I haven't posted on here in about a month. I have had some things going on in my personal life which are not only firsts but which I have no idea how in the fuck to deal with (yet anyway, it's a work in progress sort of thing) and to be honest this blog has been the last thing on my mind. Like I said, I've been a bit out of the loop lately, but I'm also working on that.

I realize now that I should have kept writing in those hard times. Instead of just saying fuck it, I should have been penning out what I was thinking. I have always thought myself better at expressing what I'm feeling and thinking through words rather than actually speaking them. It's part of this crippling disorder I have known as SuperFuckingSociallyAwkward, but that's beside the point. Maybe I would have handled things differently, maybe things would be different. But who has time for the maybes when the here and nows are bat shit?

The only thing I can do now is make a continued effort to write. I feel as though I may have been taking it for granted just a bit and it's time to make amends.

wish me luck.
Let's talk again about this time next week? ... or two weeks from now? or three?

;)