Wednesday, January 16, 2013
We met Ralph on line to get tickets to see the Clash at Bonds. being a freshman in high school, it was so fun to stand forever on a line with people who had the same passion, who loved the same music. Everyone was joking, singing, laughing. Just standing next to them was enough to feel good, to feel free. We started to talk to these guys in skinny pants with new wave tee shirts on. They were older, grown-ups. They had a band. They lived in our neighborhood. We visited their rehearsal space in the ghetto-y part of the neighborhood. Pioneers, getting cheap space in the bad part of town. They liked the cars and put on the first record, Ralph plugged in a bass and started playing along. I don’t think he was playing the right song. It just sounded noisy.
The Clash at Bonds was chaos. You probably remember how the club over sold the several night event and the fire marshalls closed it down and then the clash played a bunch of extra shows to accommodate everyone. Fire marshalls were there the night i went. it was packed. I did not see much. I sat on the floor upstairs and listened. I’m so bored with the USA sounded good. So did Police on my back and janie jones. I forget who open. Someone historical. My white Calvin Klein Jeans were too tight, My friends mother sewed them to be pedal pushers with zippers at he bottom, custom, designed by me. My stilettos were too high to stand for long, much less in a pushing crowd. It was a let down.
Another night Ralph took me with our ticket stubs to try to get in again. We did not get in. He left me alone in Times Square to get home. I was scared to go alone and I asked him to take me to the train. He did. Then this man kissed me on the lips and said goodbye. I did not like him much. He wasn’t that cute or that cool. Just a guy I met on line to buy Clash tickets. I never saw him again.