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Sunday 8th June, 2003 - http://turkeyphant.livejournal.com/ — LiveJournal
and i don't need anyone and you don't need anyone i want to be a happy boy ...
short sleeves and warm skin
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


~


One day, userinfoDavid actually managed to semi-competently comply with my instructions and did as he'd promised. I had telephoned him numerous times to ensure he knew what to do. He was able to go to the right platform at the right time, catch a train all by himself and then even remember to get off at the right station to meet me. You see, I'd whimsically decided I wanted to go and see Kinesis in Brighton that evening - mainly because it gave me an excuse to go out for once, regardless of the monetary cost.

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. userinfoDavid and I strode off into the distance, narrowly avoiding being hit by a train. We walked through the fog for what seemed like an improbably long time and scanned the Brighton seaside for a giant green apple that would signify the Concorde 2 all whilst singing Killing An Arab to ourselves. We eventually found the venue and noticed that some cool looking people were inside practising with loud instruments. After scanning round the building for an official entrance as though we were working out how to unwrap a delicate present, we eventually knocked on some pseudo-random fire exit. We were then promptly shooed away after being told that we would have to get tickets on the door. I found someone's plectrum on the floor.

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.

userinfoDavid purchased a can of Red Bull and I downed my gin despite it tasting almost exactly, but not quite, entirely unlike asses. Lots of young girls came in to watch Kinesis, for prepubescent girls are the typical Kinesis fan and it follows that they should come to a Kinesis gig. Most of them were rather petite, but it just so happened that the smallest girl in the world turned up that night, much to our delight. Some other kid came in, sat on the floor by himself in the corner against some pole and wore an expression that made him look like he often went to gigs alone because he is a hardcore music lover, yet not once had anyone actually engaged him in friendly conversation. He perhaps looked like userinfoTD would if he were less spiteful, listened to Radiohead more and had a pinch of coolness. Naturally, we had much respect for him, but this was immediately withdrawn when it later turned that he was a complete phoney. Some stupid "friends" turned up and he smiled and giggled with them so I glowered in his general direction even if he never looked back.

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. userinfoDavid and I wandered around aimlessly for a while before realising that we looked stupid and userinfoBanks wanted to sit down. And that is how I found myself next to some cute chixor who was definitely bonable despite only looking fourteen.

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. userinfoBnaks told me to bnoe her (like I needed telling) but I wasn't nearly twd enough to try talking to her and anyway, I have many many memories of not knowing what to do at gigs with cute girls.

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 userinfoDavid, bopping gaily in oblivion on my right, would accidentally bump me into her a bit closer. She temptingly brushed her fingers into mine and I felt them stay there for tenuous strands of time drawn out like tallied ejaculations. Our heads nodded in time with each other and she glibly pushed her right breast into my elbow bouncing up and down to push her flesh into mine. Still I relished the feel of her against me and struggled to establish bonage or at least connotations thereof. By then I was practically standing with my legs wrapped around hers and, although she enticingly rocked her thighs into my left knee, she hadn't looked me in the eyes once.

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.

As userinfoDavid sang along to And They Obey, our tempting butterfly kiss fingertip touches went on. I gently stroked her arm and she suggestively held my thumb with so soft a touch I was barely sure it was there at all. She tantalisingly placed her hand in mine and, right then, I was sure she wanted it too. As the opening chords to the last song rang out, we took each other's hand firmly, entwined our fingers like densely knotted string, and delighted in the simple sensations of touch we'd both been longing for the whole time. We had finally consummated our coy game and I wasn't even wary of how evanescent these moments tend to be. I stood there with us holding onto each other so. We gripped tightly and harder than brake pads, with our dry fingers tightly interlocked. And it was wonderful.

We she broke away to applaud Conor and co. off the stage, her fingers deliquesced and I turned to userinfoDavid briefly. When I looked back, she was huddled in conversation with her friends. userinfoDavid wanted to bugger off but I lingered for a demisecond and stupidly did something I never thought I could do; I tapped her shoulder and asked her name. She wasn't brusque at all and she was called Rachel. I answered her with my name and ventured another question cueing her to blush and turn bashfully away. Apparently my subaudition wasn't clear enough and maybe we were both too intimidated, insecure and inhibited. Or, perhaps, she was hoping that this weird guy who'd been molesting her for the past hour would just hurry up and go home. I really don't know - it was all far too surreal as usual.

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.

    mood: sad sad
    choon: JJ72 - JJ72