Tuesday.
If one night could be the summation of the undulations of life, this was it. It contained therein all the makings of some dramatic film, but with less explosions. There were dramatic locals with entitlement issues, people that wear religious symbols for perhaps irony (maybe?), and ridiculously good music. I had conversations with people that I have an enormous amount of respect for and saw some friends that have long been missing from my life. Friends from other counties, cities, and countries. Not that a show is the place most conducive to conversation, but sometimes just standing next to people who have a place in your heart is enough to sustain its joy. A completely beautiful fact that I appreciate about human existence.
Another, occurrence that almost shadowed my night was a strong affirmation of my abhorrence of inconsiderate and inane people. You know, those people that fully enjoy the feeling of their fists hammering into the unaware flesh of another person. Those people that have found pleasure in violence upon people who obviously can’t retaliate. It made me furious, because there are guys that play music from their hearts, but their art is taken by insular people who destroy it for those around them. It is the epitome of carelessness. Not happy-go-lucky lack of observance, but the blatant, selfish, belligerent mindlessness of a warmongerer. If its harsh, so be it. Imposing your own twisted conception of “fun” on other people is not acceptable, and if you are too dense to take into consideration your surroundings, then you should keep to yourself.
I was standing to the left of the stage minding myself, when I found a foot against my head, in my shoulder, and was on the ground being hauled up by our drummer. This insolent child was intending on crowd surfing a mass of 90 pound girls and parents. I never felt like I would fight anyone until that moment. I turned around to find him, but he was off in the crowd, waiting to do it again. At some point, somewhere along the way, he had lost his mind. Or maybe his heart. I was so incredibly ill at those kids, because there is nothing but cowardice in a man who dives feet-first or not, into a crowd of girls. Part of me wants to be their mother and ground them (literally) and the other part wants to beat sense into them. I was rather shocked at myself, because I’m never prone, nor to I advocate violence. But some sense of justice welled so viciously in my heart as I stared down another boy who was obviously intending on the same, I was shocked at myself. Watching my friend, who is just over 5 feet and has a metal rod in her leg from a car accident she should have died in get tackled by a guy that outweighs her by 50 pounds is sickening. So it was glorious to hear bands discouraging the idiocy.
If you haven’t listened to Defeater, you most definitely should. One, because they are fantastic, and two, because they have the hearts to say things that show care and concern while doing what they love, despite the popular consensus within their genre. It was beautiful to hear them defend the people who didn’t come to stomp faces and swing their cowardly fists into people who simply wanted to watch the band…not their backs. They brought tears to my eyes, speaking about soldiers that were not the war, they just had to fight it. They honored a dear friend who had desperately longed to be at that show, but finds herself an ocean away in digitized camouflage. It only reminded me that war is a terrible thing, and that there is no reason to bring violence home. It is imperative that we remember that. Because my friends are giving up their freedom and giving it to you. Don’t you dare treat the reality that they are facing every day like some game.
