(jeremy of 51st, wherever you are, i'm so sorry i couldn't find you after the show to give you that ride home i promised)

tonight... i said fuck indie.

sift through my cd collection and point out the bright eyes and the weakerthans albums cluttering my footlocker.

i admit.

i had forgotten, nearly shunned, my punk rock.

but tonight ... i said, fuck this shit.

i put on my dark eyeliner, my leather cuffs, and my shit-kickin boots that have seen more mosh pits than i care to count.

through the first band, i stood against the wall with my arms crossed, watching the hardcore fans up front with their fists in the air. and, god help me, i started to laugh hysterically. why? because i love punk rock boys. i love hardcore fans who know all the words when you can't decipher a fucking syllable on stage. i love fists in the air. and so i stood there and watched them from the back of the crowd.

second band, a guy came up to me, pointed to my shirt, and said, "you like discount?" he and i talked outside through the second band that pretty much sucked ass. but i went to get a beer, and and thus ended our relationship because his friends were talking shit about bad religion.

third band, i end up talking to two awesome guys who both told me within ten minutes that they wanted to fuck me. where do you get that? this is why i love the punk rock. you will never find more honest, straight foward, endearing assholes than at a punk rock show. then we discussed how many beers it may take for me to fuck either one of them.

fourth band, i push my way forward into a sweaty mass of pretty tightly wound half naked men, and i kick some major fucking ass. i punched and kicked and jumped and slammed and lost myself in some of the best music i nearly forgot about. i got some bruises, but i left some too.

i love the punk rock. i love the sweat, the blood, the screaming. i love boys that know what it means to throw their fists in the air. i love being able to punch a man in the face, yell 'fuck you' and then laugh about it with him on the next song. i love having beer spilled all over my leg in a crowd. i love punks who come up and talk to me because we both know we're either here for the music or to get laid and most likely both. i love wallet chains and patches. i love that i am so sore right now. i love that look everyone else gives you when you exit the mosh pit in that clumsy, collapsing way, and they just move because they're not sure they really want to deal with you. i love the passion that is lacking in so much music, that passion that makes you want to throw yourself into someone, that passion that makes you want to scream as loud as your lungs will carry, that passion that gets under your feet and contracts your hands into fists and you just fucking go until your body hates you and your heart is loving every moment of it.

punk rock. i missed you. and now, i'm back to throwing my fist in the air, because no one fucks me up like you do.