I feel sort of obligated to account for my time in California while on
vacation. This is something I booked in March, extremely suspicious that
I would make it at my current income, patience, or general “alive”
level given my inability to trust that things will go too well or turn
out as planned. I had safe flights, the second with 2 free seats next to
me to stretch and layabout. The weather was the epitome of perfect. I
saw amazing bands. One of those bands called me out to come up on stage,
dance, and make out with a random girl who crowd surfed up to join me
(all of which was on their instruction, and I suspect we both knew the
kind of pawns we were in their sick entertainment game) jk luv u #lessthanjake.
I had good expensive food. I just came from a less than ideal concert
situation so I was better prepared with water, Tylenol, sunscreen, and
decided to play modern and get touristy and take pictures and videos. I
even snuck in a trip to a botanical garden because I was told I should
go by a friend, and took pictures there as I hoofed around and listened
to people playing the various on-site pianos.
It was another
glimpse into the kind of life I feel I'm pushing towards. I get nervous
and clench my jaw thinking about whether or not I'm going to take an
extra 20 minutes on my lunch break to work out an existential crisis.
Get called to dance with my shirt off in front of thousands of people
and kiss a random girl? I want that to be my just-another-Tuesday,
because in a real way, that's what it felt like. People were calling out
my name, asking to take pictures, hug me, or just generally were
smiling and high-fiving me for being a part of the experience and
playing to the moment. I got to live in one of the loudest ways how
little a shit I give what people think, and how I wish we could all have
fun, and it was exactly representative of what's screaming to come out
all the fucking time.
The amount of times I've envisioned myself
on a stage, giving a speech, or otherwise just being unduly popular or
attention-getting is innumerable. One of my first, not being a child,
dream jobs was to scout and sign bands and run an all night practice
venue. I'm not the person who gets a treble clef tattoo, but the raw
emotion that catching the right song at the right time can bring you
back to is an invigorating drug, and a powerful force for uniting what
are otherwise miserable and immature people. It's a stark example of
personality breaking through “it all sounds the same.”
I'm really
not moved enough to say much more. I had a good time. I was alone, per
usual. My AirBnb was more uncomfortable than I was anticipating, not
because of anything wrong with the host, but because you're staying in
someone's house. I go into random houses for a living and don't blink,
but I leave shortly after. I want to be able to wander. I want to see
more of my favorite bands before their planes crash or addictions catch
up. I want to enjoy the weather. I want to keep catching 15 minutes of
fame across different exploits of my personality and interests. I think a
lot of celebrities and how many traps gets set for you after the point
where “everyone” knows who you are. I liked people calling out and
whispering comments. I'd like if they judged the shit out of me and
tried to troll. The busy-ness of pushing against opinions and wading
through the fog of thoughts into action is a kind of always-on game I
could keep playing.
No comments:
Post a Comment