Summary of the Lynrd Skynrd Concert
July 18, 2001
Overall, an alright, all-american (well, Southern) rock & roll band. Fat men singing and waving confederate flags around. Drunk 20-50-somethings throwing their fists in the air slow motion, spilling beer on millions & millions of cigarette butts on brown grass. Lighters go up for a song only the first 20 rows know the words to. I lay on my back and listen to people appreciating something I can't understand.
My best friend is crying because her boy has wronged her again. It's become so habitual that we can't do much but watch. We all take turns whispering words that don't help & kissing her forehead-hoping somehow we can transfer some sort of brave. We'll pray she gets hit with a reason to leave but tonight we can't do much but watch people walk around our island of a grass covered blanket. Where a few mintues ago there were thighs & mullets, there is an emptiness cluttered with $3 bottles and beer glasses. Someone let the water out.
We're all looking for someone to define this feeling inside us... this craving for more than what we've found. As hard as we try to find it in words or pictures or addiction-definition is always one step out of reach. It comes without being asked and it goes without saying. And no matter what we do to escape it, it's always the last thought of the day. It's always written somewhere behind our eyes or in that unsettled feeling that never leaves your stomach anymore. And no matter how far we go to chase it, there's always something lacking in that one thing that was supposed to make us happy.
We walk away in no real hurry. The show is done & we're still waiting to feel something. I watch her walk & smoke & I feel helpless. It's easy for people to tell her to walk away, but these are very real chains we're talking about. That's asking for an end to a circle. And she's stronger than some will ever have to be-not because she's got everything together, but because she's surviving with what she's got.
I sing for a while & change the words for her. On the way home we visit a few close calls and a payphone. We leave all of them feeling changed but not different.
And I know there are people everywhere, but I can't help feeling alone. Like life is happening without me. I stood on that blanket & drove & made stupid conversation-but all the time I was standing outside of myself. Reliving days and emotions and wondering if I might lose myself forever. I was not me, but a million mes that came before the me I am today. I was the girl in the movie who couldn't cry until she got angry-and then the whole world stopped to catch her tear. I was the girl who couldn't figure out how to fit into her body. Cheese slices and mustard and that was only the beginning. I was the girl with 2 left feet and too too many mixed drinks in her blood to make it over the balcony. I was the girl walking past midnight-sobbing hysterical looking stung out but dying inside for a pain of a love that was never right in the first place. Below freezing temperatures but I was the girl huddled around her cup of cold coffee she could barely afford. The girl who could barely control her sobs. I was the girl who was crippled by the discomfort of living. Pale turned purple with no blue in sight. I was the girl who picked nerds for friends. Secret codes and priorities got all flip flopped into frisbee football and anything but sleep. I was the girl laughing so hard she spit milk all over the kitchen table. Her mom just rolled her eyes and walked away.
I was the girl. I AM the girl. I am a collection of a million hers and for once I'd like to stop looking for a finished product in all this. For once I wish I would stop chasing after the she I'd like to be. There is no rest in a system where happiness starts in the future which is perpetually a day away. I am lost again. Recalling the past & momentarily forgetting that someday today will be a past I might find myself lost in. I could have stood there forever. Maybe I stand there still...
We sit on the hood of my car & play the "I Want" game. Thinking that if we can name it, it might become real. With all the talk of family & white teeth & surfers, it's all coming down to the realization that the moment is perfect just as it is. No more talk about imperfection as long as Sharon Sanders exists.
And maybe unexceptional nights like this are the most important of them all. They form your character. They force you to remember who you are & who you've been. They remind you (again) that there's no point in wishing you were someone or somewhere else. That journey and destination thing comes to mind, but it's not worth quoting. We've heard it so many times we forget that it means something. It's like, the one gigantic point to life that everyone is always forgetting. And it's more than surviving. And it's not about having everything together. It's about enjoying what you've got and where you're at. Seeing the forest for the trees. Seeing the future as something that doesn't even exist.
But if it did, it would start right now...
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