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Come Dancing
My buddy Greg and I went to see Modest Mouse and The Pixies, for the second year in a row. We live for loud rock and roll concerts. Plus, he’s used to me drinking and getting high and acting like a total maniac. Unless you’ve seen me at a concert, or in the ocean, you haven’t truly seen me at my peak happiness and lunacy.
Despite our avid concert going, neither Greg nor I had ever been to Forest Hills Stadium, a venue we both thought was rather cool, even though their bathroom roundup for the porta-potties was somewhat stressful.
I’m properly stoked, as I love The Pixies and I love Modest Mouse even more. I’ll likely know 80% of the songs both bands play and I will sing along with my borderline tone deaf voice. Greg is an actual gifted guitar player, so while I will air guitar with no idea what the chords are, Greg will mime what is actually going on.
It’s a hot one, which is why I wore a miniskirt with a crop top and my rock on skeleton hat. The heat, however, will not stop me from getting sweaty. Modest Mouse is first, and from the moment they start, we’re standing. I’m jumping around, throwing my hands in the air, yelling the lyrics or “LETS FUCKING GOOOO,” spilling my drink as I sip it and occasionally getting in trouble with the security guard for dancing in the aisle. Both Mouse and the Pixies sounded great and Greg and I had too much fun.
As we were leaving, this woman, who was probably about my Mom’s age (early 60s) taps me on the shoulder and goes, “I loved watching you dance.”
I both don’t know how to take a compliment and find any sort of interaction with strangers jarring, amplified by the fact that I’m borderline tripping. I give a Greg a look. I’m unsure how to react. I don’t think this woman was interested in fucking me (though I’ve been wrong before), I think it was a genuine compliment, but my “dancing” was mostly jumping up and down and screaming.
“I watched you the whole time,” she says. The whole time???? Damn, bitch, I think you owe me money then. Are you interested in pictures of these dancing feet???
I’m clueless what to say, I kind of just stare like a full blown autistic person on mushrooms. So Greg jumps in, “yeah… Lori is the best.” I force a smile. Just take the compliment, Lori. For fucks sake.
It’s a long shot at best I’m the best dancer anywhere, however, to this lady’s point, who said I “seemed like I was having the best time,” you’d be hard pressed to find someone who lets go as much as I when it comes to cutting up a rug. I get it from my mother. My mom is my favorite concert buddy (Greg makes a close second).
Even the concerts I’ve attended alone, like The Beach Boys in Hawaii, I was rockin’ and rollin’. At first, at that concert, I was a little self conscious about the fact that I move faster and harder than Elvis in his in prime when music I love is playing, but then I realized the old people rather liked watching my vitality (especially the men), and the fact that their music was still relevant. We’re all going to be dead soon (especially the people at the Beach Boys concert), might as enjoy the best part of life— music.
Last summer, I went to a 90s concert at The Salt Shack on Long Island with some friends. A prerequisite for being in my inner circle is having great taste in music. We had a blast, as we always do. My friends and I are dancing. This group of girls (around our age) joined us. My buddy, Andrew, who is married to my friend Victoria, whispered to me this drunk girl lingering next to us, “I think this girl is into me, she keeps touching me.” “Bro,” I responded, “she grabbed MY ass.”
While dancing, we’re all facing the stage (as you do). But this one creepy guy had his back to the stage and was eyeing me down. Even Andrew was like, “this dude is making me uncomfortable, do you want me to punch him.” I opted out of the violence and just disappeared for a couple songs in hopes he would find another girl to stalk and leave me and my friends alone. The girl who kept grabbing my ass wasn’t as easy to shake. I didn’t even get gay vibes from her, I just think she was wasted and saw that our friends were the most animated when it comes to having a good time. While some people, I’ve found, think my ass is too small and boney, other people find it adorable. Especially when it’s shaking all about, I guess. I can’t say for sure, as I’ve never actually seen my own ass while I’m dancing.
In my life, I’m always planing the next concert or travel spot. It’s part of the reason I fail to save money, though the main reason I don’t save money is I’m not really making any. But my idea of heaven involves a dance floor, really great music, and people who jump out of their seats with me. And if rock and roll is the devil’s music, then I guess Hell is my idea of a good time.
Rock on! I was a huge concert-head on the mainland, and that’s one thing that Honolulu doesn’t have – enough concerts or performing arts shows. Still love it here, but when I see posts like yours or my Turkish friend’s (like last night, she saw Iron Maiden — one of my two favorites, the other being Pink Floyd, and she’s going to see Judas Priest in 2 days and Massive Attack in 3 days), that’s when I feel both happy for my friends and bummed that we don’t have enough here. Anyhoo, rock on and keep dancing, doesn’t matter how unsightly it looks!