Bright Eyes - 09.30.02 - 11:46 am

OK, another four day gap and this time the excuse is not a lack of interest, but a lack of strength. I didn't listen to my body and wore it down to the point of delirium.

But I had a damn good time fucking my shit up.

This weekend, my friend Tee and I went on a short road trip to see Bright Eyes. Neither one of us knew if the show was sold out, but whatever. We would show up and hope to get in.

We did get in, but not without lying, forgery, and a six block wind sprint which left us drenched in sweat and wondering why running makes us want cigarettes.

Now, before I go on, I shall engage in two digressions.

Digression #1- The town the show was playing in? Hates me. I tried to swallow any bad feelings when I got out of the car, but it didn't work. As the night went on, I felt sicker and sicker until I was positive that I would die in my sleep. Melodramatic, yes, but there's something in the air or seeping out of the streets that makes me feel like shit. I don't know why. I could really, really like this town.

Digression #2- Bright Eyes. I had been hearing about Bright Eyes for months. People would say "You'd really like them" and I would read bits of lyrics and listen to people go on and on and on about how wonderful they are. Yet, I couldn't make the next step and actually listen to a song. You see, in the past, a band would get so built up in my head that when I finally listened to them, I would be very disappointed and depressed. Like the lyrics would be so wonderful, but the music wouldn't do them justice and I would hate that such a thing is even possible. But I finally decided that, yes, I would listen to a song. "Calendar Hung Itself", to be exact. I was the furthest thing from disappointed. I told Tee about all this and she made me a tape which hasn't left my tape player since I got it. Then I bought Lifted. (Thank you.) So, yeah, I really, really like Bright Eyes.

And the show? Amazing, amazing, amazing, amazing, AMAZING.

I got chills. I haven't gotten chills at a show since...I don't know when.

Fucking amazing.

I didn't even care that I was the least fashionably dressed girl there and my shirt was soaked in sweat and if I moved my head too fast, I felt like I was going to puke. Yeah. Chills. Amazing.

Then I horked in some kid's driveway. A lot. I still feel bad even though I was neat about it and kicked some dirt over the mess. That's just rude, you know?

I fell asleep on someone's floor that night, curled up in a ball and trying not to shake my teeth out of my jaw.

We got home the next day in the early afternoon, I took some flu medicine and fell asleep for several hours. Upon seeing me, my mom says "You look like hell, Molly." Thanks.

Even though I was still feeling like something Death scraped off the bottom of his shoe, I went to the diner with May for an hour. I checked my voicemail and there was a message from an old friend of mine. She said, "I have bad news and it doesn't seem right to tell you in a message." She sounded as bad as I felt. I called her back and she says "Someone we know is dead." I say "How many fucking times am I going to hear that before I turn 25?"

This boy I went to school with was killed in a car crash the night before while I was out of town. I don't think I had had an actual conversation with him since middle school or possibly even elementary school, but he had been nice to me throughout high school while some of his friends were dicks. My friend had been hanging out with him ten minutes before the crash, so she is pretty torn up. We're getting together in a couple nights.

I came home, couldn't sleep for various reasons, and made a autumn mix tape. I decided to carry it around with me in case I happened to get the balls to give it to LBC.

I worked yesterday, saw him, fell asleep last night listening to the tape. Go ahead. Insult my lack of guts. I deserve it.

If I couldn't do it while wacky on flu medicine and coming off of a show high, I'll never do it. Unless I see him somewhere else besides the library. Or get blitzed on the gin.

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