Quick descriptive writing activity thing...

I'm sitting at my computer desk, like I do for a while every day, even if the while is only a few minutes. My keyboard is in my lap, clothed in thick, baggy jeans, because I still haven't rewired it to fit back on the cluttered desktop itself. It's hard for me to type because my fingers are so numb. A square of sunlight from the window behind me hits my right arm, and it's weird having a warm right arm and a cold left shoulder, and numb fingers on top of it.

There's a name and a homework assignment scribbled in various colors on the back of my left hand - finally the metallic sharpie washed off. The black on my nails is chipped, and on both of my thumbnails you can see more nail than paint.

I've never been to Minnesota. I don't recall anyone in my family ever going to Minnesota, not in the time I've been alive. It makes me wonder where on earth I got a Minnesota T-shirt. I know I've had it for a few years, at least, and then I wonder why it still fits me. It's not as baggy as my normal shirts, but it still fits.

My birds are yelling at me. Downstairs I can hear my radio blaring; I was listening to it while I ate my afterschool snack (a peanut butter and honey sandwhich). I was reading, too. Reading and considering snatching a beer from the fridge.

I don't think my parents count it... But I don't want to find out if they do or not. And besides, I don't like alcohol.

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Sorry about that. I'm reading a narrative book, and normally as soon as I'm done reading something I'm tempted to writing in that style.

So I didn't make the concert on Friday. Bummer. I really like CLub Phoenix - it's a nice place to just hang out. I did go to Battle of the Bands at the rec center though.

The stupid bouncers - or the janitorial staff, to be more accurate - made everyone dressed in black creep around back. They wouldn't let anyone for the concert enter the front door - that was for family use only. Don't want the chilluns gettin' nightmares, or lungfuls of second-hand smoke now, do we?

I swear. So yeah, my crowd is messed up to the upteenth degree. Yeah, our music is loud, heavy, and - surprise!- funny, except for the music that is dark and threatening. And yes, some of us have gotten into the unhealthy habit of blasting our brains and burning our lungs, but honestly... we don't scare kids that much, do we?

My mom freaked out. Hah. Leah and I rounded the corner... and there are all the old volvos or SUVs decked out in "OPERATION IVY" "PENNYWISE" and various other nearly/mainstream band stickers. Smoke hovered over a gaggle of Them with many belts - spiked, studded, skulled - hair three feet long (exaggerating) and done in more colors than a box of crayons. Those were some damn potent cigs.

Anyway. Mom turned back around right there at the top of the driveway, muttering quickly about calling her when we needed a ride, and she'd be back by 11 whether we called or not.

So Leah and I walk - freezing - down the driveway, past the Thems (don't ask), and into the backhallway that served as our reception room. It smelled very, very heavily of chlorine. We got our hands stamped for admission, cast a vote for the best band - THE DEPOTTS, OF COURSE! - and let our ears get blasted.

I love standing right next to the speakers. I'm a fucking idiot, but god, it's so great... I love guitar. I love bass. I love drums. I love all three spewing from a speaker nearly as tall as I am with the capability of blowing an elephant through a brick wall. I love the way it reverbrates up my spine and in my chest, and sometimes I think I'm shaking like a piece of paper, and then I notice I'm actually not moving at all... It's like some sort of musical sex, I think. But by the time the fourth band plays, my ears are getting ready to bleed torrents.

Oh yeah. We missed the first band that played, but it's all good - their name was stupid. The Heartichokes. Then Leah's guy's band played (and I say her guy because she has a major crush on him - has for a year now - and won't do anything about it XD). They're alright, but Mike headbangs like a noodle.

More head slamming, less pelvic thrusting!

Then some other band played, I think... unless Underscore was next. I can't remember. They have a nice visual style, but I'm not one for their music.

Ugh, shit. This is boring.

End