losing coins calling next of kin
dropping words about the city we're in
ponds compressed by heavy air
us without care just sprawling there
god's in our world
airports and undergrounds
waiting to find the unfound
rising to pure insanity
here when you want me true love
has no simplicity
god's in our world
you and i
we're going so high
the air is getting thin
but our land does not breathe in
we don't need oxygen
it's dreams that binds us and locks us in
the rest are impaled by sense
Naturally, we arrived there too late to actually do anything fun beforehand but it mattered not, for dense fog had descended over the seaside reducing visibility to a mere twenty metres.
After stomping noisily over stones and skipping stones like Amélie, we found ourselves back at some roadside nourishment vendors where we purchased chips, talked to a humorous man and, like it was a guilty secret addiction, we pretended we didn't enjoy reading the hilarious Daily Mail. We exhausted entertainment thus provided and suddenly realised all the funny man's tables had been cleared away for the night but ours. The short walk back to the evening's venue allowed us to arrive fifteen minutes early and we surprised ourselves by being the first in line once again. Upon entering the scant giggage area, we sat on windowsills and appreciated the best dj evar playing a serious of ace choons. Whoever it was (the sound man dismissed me when I enquired), he had clearly raided my CD collection to play a Kathryn Williams remix, Simian, The Electronic Soft Parade [sic], Mull Historical Society, Minuteman and even Tom McRae.
The first band was Smother who were absolute gods despite the guitarist being a bit rubbish really and all three members being skinheads. Still they did try hard and very few other people their seemed to recognise their qualities. Plus, their guitars were all being held together with vast quantities of silver duct tape. I hope the frontman dude was happy because I bought their EP immediately afterward.
Next up were Winnebago Deal who I thought would be shite due to their rubbish name but, in actual fact, turned out to be biggest lords of sonic assault evar. They were incredibly loud with the best drumming, very cool guitaring skillz and the roof shaking riffs that seemed to travel up and down my spine. Damn, the bass was so good I feel compelled to use the hateful adjective "phat" to describe it. Miraculously, they were a only a duo with an insanely cool drummer and a guitarist who played as through he was a cross between Andrew WK and some man with talent. They alienated perhaps the entire audience with a stupid stop-start thing which killed all the pre-mosh suspense by overdoing it by about twenty times but this only made their leetskillz rise up the scales of aceness. What really made the experience good, apart from its having to be live to work so well, were the huge gigaamp speakers a mere 10" from us that shook the floor and made tangible the pure sex vibrating in the air around my hands. That and the riffs were just so fantastic it didn't matter than the voice channel was stuck on zero. I just wanted to show my admiration in a way that didn't involve self-conscious head bobbing or the ultimate embarrassment that is me dancing. And I'm certain that I'll suffer from tinnitus for the next week.
And so I went and bought their LP (after using the stupid you-have-to-pay-extra-money cash machine) and happily found that they were signed to Fierce Panda - one of my favourite labels.
We sat there squashed up against the barrier and she rubbed her legs against mine and I simply revelled in the shared contact for it's really been that long. As she got up for a beaker of water, she ran her hand down my shin and didn't look back once. When she came back, she ran past her friend so sit next to me once again.
And we kept on sitting there with our legs resting together, neither making the usual reactionary moves that occur when two strangers accidentally touch. She talked to her friends whenever I glanced over and so I strained my neck to look away and make it clear I was chatting amicably with David and not surreptitiously checking her out again. She shifted her weight over toward me again and soon our bare arms were touching, skin gently resting on skin. God, I'd forgotten how good the warmth of another person feels, especially when they like it too. I kept willing the roadies to stay on forever, but all too soon we hauled ourselves up for Kinesis. Still squashed closely next to each other by the serried crowd we draped ourselves over the bar at the front like folded towels and again our arms slid together and rested not only touching, but pushed mutually together like blowing between sheets of A4.
Her abstruse approaches continued as we rubbed our arms together and I tried to move in toward her in a way that every contact could be passed off as an accident. She reconditely continued to refuse to look at me but, each time our arms pushed closer together or our trousers brushed against each other, she'd turn to her friend and whisper in her ear. I was confused as to why she didn't find my faux-subtle advances rebarbative but, just maybe, she was equally shy and so, because I'm such an asshat, I continued with my useless-failure attempts to try and bnoe her. Anyone else would ask her her favourite Kinesis song, buy her a drink or get chatting to find out her number but, no, not me. Instead I make purely physical passes at her so subtle they have no ostensible purpose and I can never be sure whether she's responding positively. We stood there while I wished that
She had two silver rings, three plastic bracelets and nice short fingernails. She had well conditioned, thick shoulder length dark-brown hair in a style I'd never seen before but which looked wonderful on her. He face was flawless and held a coy aura of innocence, her ears were covered by that hair and she had brown eyes that shone and coruscated in the stage lights. I hadn't paid attention to the music once, but I knew she wore baggy jeans with a studded belt, blue shoes and a black top with badges from Camden Market.
We she broke away to applaud Conor and co. off the stage, her fingers deliquesced and I turned to
I went to the toilet and she'd gone, so I resigned myself to defeat and we set off back to the station. But then, after escaping some scary people, she and her friends kept catching up with us and overtaking before slowing down again for us to walk past them. This game continued for the half-hour walk to the station as she skipped around us again and again. The whole time she wouldn't look at me once and meanwhile, I increasingly realised how cute she was. When we finally got to the station, she disappeared and I stole a British Sea Power poster.
We narrowly avoided about three more sets of menacingly scary people on the train and thought about how ace the bands had been that night. Though, to be honest, Kinesis were almost boring for me. Allowing for distractions, naturally. I finally got back late because my father failed to pick me up.
And, at the end of the day I hadn't boned her but, in retrospect, that was probably a good thing. I thought about her the entire night but I still think it felt better that way, that somehow it meant more. It had made me feel almost good about myself and that was more than enough to bring me to satiety.
I didn't want to do anything other than kiss her at the side that night, let alone contact her again or meet up with her and her friends. But please would someone give me advice on what I should do in similar situations in order to bone little girls? Except stop sucking cock, naturally.