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Ingenue
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1 Posts |
 Posted - 11/18/2004 : 01:41:12
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Last night was amazing. Chicago Aragon, filled with hundreds like myself, all waiting to see what we haven't seen since our youth. The Pixies. In true form, wiser, yet still rocking and lulling like college kids. Things have changed since I last saw the Pixies. For one, I'm not 15 anymore. The last show I tried not to mosh, but ended up crowd surfing my way into a security guard arms that gently told me to keep both feet on the ground. My Stussy flannel and ripped fishnets soaked in sweat, I sang and screamed until they waved goodnight. As I left the Riviera night club that night, cold December wind on my face, I brushed the pink hair from my eyes and thought, "it can't get any better than this".
After the Pixies break up I pledged to follow and support their solo and side projects. Well, life got in the way of fervent obsession, and I am sad to say that I am not the Pixies fan with rare bootlegs. The love is still there though, and at the Aragon last night, I held my husband's hand (something I didn't have when I was 15)and screamed my head off and jammed like I had been bitten by youth. Frank's scream ricocheted off my ear drums and into my brain leaving me feeling like jello on a hotplate. My husband and I left the Aragon, November's chill on our sweaty cheeks, I brushed my respectable, yet punk rock, mother of 3 hair from my eyes and thought, "it can't get any better than this".
Dare I say, curled next to "my big man", I Levitated off to sleep, with the hum of Frank's shrill dancing in my head. |
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Frank screams in my loveliest of dreams
