|By Matt from Orlando, USA (Black Rebel Motorcycle Club)|
via Wikimedia Commons
This kooky tarot reader I knew, in my late teens, gleefully invited me to go with her to a Psychedelic Furs concert, and she had backstage passes!!! I coulda met the FURS!!!!! But even the thought of asking my mother for permission terrified me, and sneaking out (apart from being impossible to do from our two-bedroom apartment) was never an option (you can take the gal outta Catholic School, but you can't take the Catholic School outta the gal). (God knows I've tried.) Anyway, it was only in my late 20s that I attended my first rock concert: Duran Duran at Jones Beach, Long Island, NY (August 1999). It. Was. Awesome.
Y U SO SEX-AY?
Like horror movies and quarrels, when you move to the music, your body's physiological responses mimic those of sex. Case in point: A few years ago I went to see Black Rebel Motorcycle Club at Webster Hall in Manhattan. Big crowd, lotsa booties shakin'—it was a blasty-blast. I went alone, so I didn't have someone to make kissy-faces at, but I was having a good time, nonetheless. Then they played their tune Weapon of Choice. It's not a song about sex, or anything, but there was something about the driving, forward motion that seemed to flip a switch, and not just within me. While I felt this electric thrill course through me, I noticed some couples around me getting pretty touchy-feely with one another. One couple began to make out with gusto and it was all...whoa. ::fans self at the memory::
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