I went to a Muse concert with my friend yesterday. I'm not crazy about Muse, but my friend is and it was a good time just to see her spellbound by the music of her favorite band making the hem of her pants shake. They do play well live, though. They were spacey. The lead looked like an alien wearing the skin of an emo kid.
If you asked God, I'm sure he'd tell you that he made concerts and marijuana for each other. This was a concert I would have loved to be high at, but my friend is so chaste and opposed to drug use that I would have been disgusted with myself. It was her first concert, too - I don't mean to equate her to a child, but being high there would have been wrong for the same reasons.
I'm always impressed by how primal rock concerts are. The air is so thick with sex, drugs and rock that if you breathe it, you're almost sure to get pregnant with a little monster that makes you want to sweat and scream and trip and fuck. Then you're pushed back out into your stale life and the fetus hiding inside you dries up and dies quietly, fatally malnourished.
On a note that's only somewhat seperate: I want to drop acid, I want to drop acid, I want to drop acid.
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