"Strephon kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.
Strephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day."
There are a few regrets in my life, but when it comes to those instances
of never talking to boys, so many that they can fill a blog up; there are
mainly two that really make me wince when I think about them. They make me
wince so much, I don’t really want to relive them. But for the sake of a
literary grade, I shall try to relive those wounds that have mostly healed.
In the golden age of indie rock, music moved and lived through my veins. There were
bands in my city every week, from Brighton, from Sheffield, Glasgow, and even San
Francisco. My friends and I would show up at TV recordings, impromptu concerts,
official concerts, and CD signings at the now defunct Virgin record shops to
meet them and get our records signed. I remember one time where I went to see
three different bands in one week. At these social gatherings, it wasn’t a
coincidence to see the same people. When
I first noticed him, I seriously thought he was a girl. He had black bowl cut
hair 1964 Beatles style, wore all black, a black leather jacket with a peter
pan collar, with a button of the album cover for the Velvet Underground’s first
album near the collar. I didn’t notice him; I was more keen on the band from
Glasgow. My friends had stars in their eyes not because of the band’s Scottish accents
but because of who I would like to call this anonymous person, Reed. I instinctively knew my friends were into Reed
by their awkwardness and annoying nervous looks. After the show, my friends were all
talking about Reed and I was more star struck by the band.
The second time I saw Reed, all I remember was the band , that rocked, and
him with his black leather jacket allegedly staring at me, according to my
friends. I started noticing him and thought he was cute.
The third and last time that I saw him was quite a night. The famed Arctic
Monkeys were playing an outdoor concert, I had met the band, gotten their
autographs, and that other side of me seemed to display itself. The band famous
for its raucous concerts had me jumping, sweating, and rocking and dancing
throughout the night. After the show, my friends wanted to take pictures with the
band, so we, along with a whole gang of people waited for them to come out.
From this moment on, all I can remember is me talking very loudly to
people all around, I felt like a social butterfly discussing records and bands, a friend whispering to me that Reed was in the back looking
at me, me not really understanding but very happy about it and then the
incident.
I remember running with my friends to go eat at the local burger joint, me
not catching up and as I was headed in one direction, he was going the other
way, we both stopped and he smiled. A
very pleasant and friendly smile I saw his eyes, hazel colored, and his very
nice face, his licorice colored shaggy hair in his eyes.
What did I do? WHAT DID I DO ?! I
ran away. I ran like a little girl, I ran until I caught up to my friends and really can't remember what happened after that.
What could have happened? I don’t know. He could’ve been my friend. Maybe
we could’ve been something more. It might have lasted three weeks, three
months, or who knows. I think that was a real low point in my life and if I
could do it again, I would definitely change it. THAT is what I thought
then. It’s a bad faded memory now, and I
have new regrets (see BLOOMING BULL MOOSE LOVE) but I think this memory is way
worse than what I’ve written before because this is just unforgiveable. Unforgiveable. But why did I do it again?
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