Fuse Burning.

Ready.

Set.

Explode.




The guitars rampage. The drums batter. The singer snarls bastardizations at the world. A bell rings. And Pavlov's dog has a fucking seizure on the dance floor. Since i'm not a part of it…. Yet. I see it: how a group of people can become a blizzard, how all the time spent buying and picking out exactly the right clothing doesn't mean shit now, because no one is looking at clothes or poses. It's about force and pulse and unleashing the gigantic urges. I am pushing through this human turbulence to get there. I am slamming through this bright, bright darkness to figure out who the fuck I'm looking for and why.



Standing there 10 feet away. Not looking for me or for anything else. In the middle of this conflagration and looking entirely alone.

It scares me.

I recognize it.



I am hearing the bassline. I am falling into it, the black of it, the pit of it. It screams that time is an angry machine. Music is an angry machine. We are all angry machines.

I've lost my kilter. I am down warding. And it's worse because I know I should be going up.




I press forward and he's right there and i'm reaching out and he's right there. And right at that moment the amps amplify and the music takes on such a pulse that it becomes my heartbeat and his heartbeat and I know it and he knows it and this is the point where we could break apart and that would be it, totally it. But I look into his eyes and he looks into my eyes and we recognize it– the excitement of being here, the excitement of being now. And maybe i'm realizing what a part of it he is and he's realizing what a part of it I am, because suddenly we're not crashing as much as we are combining. The chords swirling around us becoming a tornado, tightening and tightening and tightening and we are at the centre of it, and we are at the centre of each other.

My wrist touches his right at the point of our pulses and I swear I can feel it. That thrum. We are moving to the music and at the same time we are stillness. I am not losing myself in the barrage. I am finding him. And he is– yes, he is finding me. The crowd is pressing in on us and the bassline is revealing everything and we are two people who are apart of a lot more people, and yet at the same time we're our own part. There isn't loneliness, only this intense twoliness. There is only one way to test it, and that is to dare a movement, to push it farther and see if he wants to go there. I find his lips and I make that kiss and his pulling my hair and i've got the fabric of his jacket bunched into a fist and its nothing like talking and its right there and we're taking it and taking it and taking it. And his eyes are open and there is a part of me that's pulling back even as our bodies are pressing and its fear, of course there's fear, and he just holds me close and tells me he understands.




Thank you music, Damn you memories, Thank you present.