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Photophobe
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I really do live for the stupidest things. Little idiotic
moments that make it all worthwhile.
But I wouldn't have it any other way.
I'm standing, craning my neck to see over the
sweaty, bald head of the guy in front, drenched in
perspiration mine and the crowd's both.
The night had been ok so far, but I'd been hoping
for better. Turned up to the horden Pavilion just as
Something for Kate begin the worst set I've ever
seen them play (and I've seen them a bunch of
times over the past few years). They might as well
have been playing the CD. So powderfinger start a
vastly better performance, and Josie and I press
into the mosh.
A song comes on that I don't know, and boy is it
shit. Josie suddenly notices somebody's wallet
fallen on the floor, and ducks down to get it. Sot
his funny striped purple beam of light from behind
the drum kit blazes into existence, passing
through the smoke to refelct of a cymbal to create
this crazy, beutifully sublime pattern. I stare at it
like its aimed right at little me and my so-easily-
pleased heart. It burns a track through all the shit
built up inside; cleans me out and fills me utterly.
I'm standing there, with Josie rifling through a
wallet at my feet, people jumping and thrashing
and pushing violently all around me, just grinning
like an idiot at some stupid colourful pattern, and
the lead singer cries:
"Whatever makes you happy/ Whatever does it/
Whatever makes you happy/ Happy."
Right there. THAT is what I live for. I've been
searching myself for a reason: what was so
special about that moment, and the few that come
like it? Why do I live for moments like these?
But I can't even begin to pick a quality. I don't see
what differentiates this from the rest of my life.
Emotionally, it should be the same as everything
esle seeing a pretty pattern with a bad song
playing in an uncomfortable setting shouldn't
make me feel.
But somehow it does.
Somehow, I'd trade my grandchildren's souls for
that moment again. And I'd be getting a bargain
for it, too.
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