Last night, I witnessed Thursday’s last New York City show. The whole thing was an entirely new experience for me. I had work in the morning and had to rely on getting paid first. Ordinarily, I get paid on Thursdays, but with Thanksgiving happening, they paid us a day early. With my paycheck safely in the bank, I called up Irving Plaza to make sure there were tickets still available before I caught a train (after missing the one I originally anticipated taking [though this is a more frequent occurrence with me than one would think]) into Manhattan.
Walking up to Irving Plaza, I expected a line halfway down the road. What I got, however, were six shivering kids waiting by the entrance. I was there an hour before doors start. Usually, my crew and I line up hours before, but with it being cold and wet and rainy, I didn’t expect so much. I didn’t expect so little, either. (Apparently, Thursday fans are rather chill about this sort of shit, though.)
The first band played to a really small crowd, the next band a slightly larger crowd. Nobody was pushing or shoving and between sets, the fans would talk to each other about shows and venues. Nobody was going on about so-and-so being really hot, and nobody was delving into anybody’s personal life. It was friendly and nice. Megs didn’t show up until ten minutes before Thursday went on and managed to worm her way onto the barricade with me.
Between songs, chants of “Thank You Thursday” broke out. The band was smiling but seemed overwhelmed by everything. A few times Geoff was turned away from the crowd, waiting for his turn to speak, and you could tell he was just getting choked up. He even said he had nothing to say because he knew he would get choked up.
Thursday puts on a great set. Always. 110%.
They closed with this song. Turnpike Divides.
This song really means a lot to Megs and I. The lines “it’s hard to sleep when you’re born to run … all the roads are pointing home again” really hit somewhere. Whenever Megs and I are on a road trip, this song comes up at least once, always on the way home.
I managed to hold on for most of the set last night, but they played this and the tears happened. I haven’t been very into Thursday for a long time. Yes, they were one of the bands I grew up with, but I’d never known much about them until I saw them this past year. They hit somewhere inside of me that only one other band could. It was like they got me.
i don’t even know why it bums me out because i don’t even want you that way. but it does. i guess im just selfish and want you to myself in a strictly platonic way. or because im afraid ill slowly start to lose you. or because i’m your secret keeper and i dont want anybody else getting that title from me.
If I had to pick a class I'm most excited about next semester:
Lesbian and Gay Literature
This course explores lesbian and gay writers’ use of varying literary practices and genres - such as comedy of manners, crosswriting, biomythography, historical fiction, the novel, and poetry - to express characteristic themes: the closet and it’s codes, coming out, “camp” shame/pride, reclaiming the past, gender identity, bisexuality, transgenderism, and AIDS. Writers include Oscar Wilde, James Baldwin, Audre Lorde, Adrienne Rich, Leslie Feinberg, Allen Barnett, Isabel Miller, Walt Whitman, Essex Hemphill, and Pat Parker.
I didn’t mean for this to get this out of hand Honest! When I started I never intended - I didn’t expect - Do you see? This statue is chipped Crumbling Tarnished But your tape Your glue Won’t fix it Your coat of paint Just a temporary fix The flaws? They’re still there Laying Waiting Growing stronger and larger yet Until The next gust of wind
It’s just the nicotine that’s coming over me Or is it anything more than a smoke screen Cause I feel like you’ve been living a lie You’re looking better than Than you ever did and nothing’s better than Than you once said I’ve been waiting But I’ve been losing my Losing my mind
I’ve gotta take the car for a long drive I’m gonna get out or I’ll commit myself I don’t know how you do what you do Do do do do do I’ve gotta take the plane for a long ride I’m gonna get out or I’ll commit myself I won’t believe a word that you say
And all the cigarettes are getting better yet I just can’t forget all the other shit I know you’re back to me That’s just fine But you can’t sleep You’re leaning next to me Saying everything Saying everything That you would do If you could just open your eyes Well, open your eyes
I’ve gotta take the car for a long drive I’m gonna get out or I’ll commit myself I don’t know how you do what you do Do do do do do I’ve gotta take the plane for a long ride I’m gonna get out or I’ll commit myself I won’t believe a thing that you A thing that you A thing that you say
Oh you look so So skin and thin and bones And oh Oh you look so So so so so I know it doesn’t end It just gets better yet I don’t wanna wait cause I can’t think about What you never did What you never did Would you? Well, I wouldn’t Wait Would you go? Would you stay?
I’ve gotta take the car for a long drive
I’m gonna get out and I’ll commit myself I don’t know how you do what you do what you do what you do I’ve gotta take the plane for a long ride I’m gonna get out or I’ll commit myself I won’t believe a thing that you say
I’m trying to write my memoir for my class, and I am trying to get Oneonta down on paper, but I just had to pause for a moment because I got the point where Megs and I walk into the gymnasium, flooding the darkened room with light as Adam’s looking around the crowd. This is where he scans the crowd and lands on us and gets a huge dorky grin on his face.
My brother has an interview for a serious business job coming up in December, and I’m sitting here staring at all my college stuff feeling so fucking lost. Like, how am I supposed to know what I want to do for the rest of my life when I’m barely twenty-one.
Step into a tanning booth and fry yourself for two or three days. After your skin bubbles and peels off, roll in coarse salt, then pull on long underwear woven from spun glass and razor wire. Over that goes your regular clothes, as long as they are tight.
Smoke gunpowder and go to school to jump through hoops, sit up and beg, and roll over on command. Listen to the whispers that curl into your head at night, calling you ugly and fat and stupid and bitch and whore and worst of all “a disappointment.” Puke and starve and cut and drink because you don’t want to feel any of this. Puke and starve and cut and drink because you need an anesthetic and it works. For a while. But then the anesthetic turns into poison and by then it’s too late because you re mainlining it now, straight into your soul. It’s rotting you and you can’t stop.
Look into a mirror and find a ghost. Hear every heartbeat scream that everysinglething is wrong with you.
Does anybody know anything about Paradise Lost and want to help me?
Honestly, I can’t make any sense of this text. I have never felt so incredibly dumb before.
This is what I’ve got to do:
As noted in class on Monday, 11/14, by the end of Book IX Adam and Eve, “neither self condemning” (line 1188) blame each other for their fall. How have their attitudes toward their own actions and towards each other changed by the end of Book X? Be sure to cite specific passages that illustrate your response, which should be at least one full paragraph.