it’s all around, you just ain’t receiving

Wednesday, February 14, 2001
@ home 0226 hrs

It’s a Wonder Years night. Something about the warm 67 degrees, the soft halos surrounding the yellow-orange outdoor lights, and the people I’ve been out with made the entire evening from eleven o’clock till nearly two a beauty bound up with sentimentality. Making me wonder what it is I’ve missed for so long; does this seemingly easy coming-together of points happen regularly? Have I only been missing it for the most part these past months and years?

Around eight o’clock I took my smoke break (or as Corey, a manager, and I joke, my “sucking a fag” break) and sat outside under the hidden overcast sky among the landed moisture and called various numbers on my cell looking for a fifteen minute conversation to keep my mind off work. After I’d given up, Erin (not my girlfriend) called and notified me of the Death Cab for Cutie show later tonight. A few ill-placed curse words and a vow later, I’d decided to go down to Emo’s after work (which ended at 10:00 PM) to catch them. Hopefully they wouldn’t be halfway through their set by the time I arrived.

When work ended I headed downtown, grabbing a cheeseburger and Coke from McDonald’s and cash from the ATM on the way there. I arrived at the beginning of the first band of the night (hooray!) and did a quick scan of the humid interior of the club all the while figuring Erin and her boyfriend, David, would be out back enjoying the cooler temperature outside. Soon after I found them and sat down, Evan, Wendi’s (ex-)boyfriend before I had anything to do with her save procure mochas at Shitbucks, wandered over and joined us.

We sat outside for the first two bands, waiting on Death Cab. Evan and I shared a beer while we all waited for the main act. When DcFc began we all went inside and rocked away. Good show. Wish the vocals had been a bit louder so we might have heard their poetic lyrics better, but the fact that they were a bit lower than I might’ve liked didn’t detract from the show all the much if any.

Erin and I sat outside during a couple of the songs smoking cigarettes, cooling off and talking about relationships. I expounded on my joy with my current relationship mostly because it isn’t as anxiety-ridden as most my others are. She spoke a bit of her’s being somewhat opposite.

We went back inside and watched the show end. Death Cab for Cutie played a rather short set–a couple of new songs and a Bjork cover–with a good mixture of old and new. We all parted ways, Evan heading for the parking garage near Ruta Maya, me heading for one near the Omni, and Erin and David hanging about outside the club with friends they were getting rides from.

During the second band, Evan and I had spoken about how when we’re all eighty years old and sitting on our front porches we’ll be happy we spent money to come see shows. I told him I doubted we’d remember much about the actual show at all, but we’d probably most remember just sitting outside, smoking cigarettes, sharing water and beer, and conversing easily with new friends. I’m sure it will be that way for me.

Seeing the band play is only half the fun.

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