Wednesday, 23 July 2014

Guilty by Word Association

The customers had thrown things on the floor, like they do. She walked down the aisle, which was the wedding aisle (but not that wedding aisle, she walked down that long ago), picking everything up. Nice! she yelled. Look at this! It's everywhere!

No, you're everywhere.


Your haaaair is...

I'm 17 or 18, walking back up the stairs of the Legion in Belle River, I think, and the electric throb of a hardcore show is no longer shaking the wood paneling. There's a melody in the air. Her hand is in mine.

As we crest the staircase, we see a crowd, who was, fifteen minutes ago when we went outside to fight, beating the living shit out of each other in the primal construct called a mosh pit; they're now swaying back and forth, not quite in unison, belting out the refrain (not quite in unison).

Screaming infiDELitiiiiiies!

Weren't these guys the badass hardcore headliners? What the hell is going on?

And taking itsssssswear.

Fuck it.


I'm singing louder than everyone else. She's looking at me like I just sprouted a third arm. She loves this song, maybe, though I'm pretty sure she doesn't know what infidelities are.

We had to fight because I "ignored" her, which I didn't, to talk to the sister of a friend of ours (whose earlier performance is actually the reason we're here), who happens to be friends with a girl who liked me, who I didn't then like, but who I did end up dating years later. Was this the first time I told a girlfriend she's batshit? Was it the first time I was wrong? Or was it a self-fulfilling prophecy? Saw that same friend's sister recently, for the first time in forever, too. Brains are weird. I didn't ignore anyone to talk to her this time.


This acoustic/crowd-chorus version is wayyy better than the original.

I'm walking down another aisle, cleaning more stupid customer mess and I've been singing the song over and over again (reading your note), for days now, belting that shit out with zero shame. Memories are weird.


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