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The Battle of Brooklyn
Dec. 22nd, 2021 11:39 pmI’ve been sort of busy recently. I got my job back so that’s kept me busy these last few days, as well as seeing some friends while I’m home. Things are so-so right now, even though it’s 3 days until Christmas.
I did however have an awesome experience last Friday, this time out of my own effort and volition, and it required some pulled strings and meticulous planning. I decided I wanted to see a death metal show in Brooklyn whether my parents would let me or not. Knowing right off the bat that they would refuse to let me go if I told them, I decided to not tell them at all. If they were to find out, I would be in more trouble than I can even fathom because I’ve never betrayed my parents so hard before. This was a huge risk for me, but luckily I am a prolific planner.
Maybe back in the Golden Age of underground music, lying to one’s parents was much easier. Back then there was no phone tracking, no online transaction histories, no Metrocard or anything of the sort. Unfortunately, these were all limiting factors for me. Really the only huge hurdle was making sure I had the cash and means of getting about without my parents being able to see it digitally. So I took $40 out from the bank and prayed no one would ask questions. I told my parents that Amanda and I were going into the city to see the Rockefeller tree, a half truth since it was in my itinerary, but I assured them we would not be using the subways and would stay in Manhattan. And I did drag Amanda’s pop punk-loving ass along for the ride because I’ve been meaning to take her to a show just to see what would happen. She helped me cover my tracks, too, because Amanda’s a real one.
Anyways, I created a cover story so that I knew exactly what to say if my parents asked me about the day. Instead of going to the Lego store and crowded Bryant Park like loser tourists, Amanda and I took the L train to Brooklyn and had pizza margherita in a moody restaurant out in peaceful, foggy Brooklyn. Afterwards, we made our way to the tiny venue and experienced what I can only describe as the most ironic form of relaxation ever.
Gold Sounds is a rather quaint punk bar. Outside, a group of people in elaborate outfits were smoking and laughing amidst a melancholy and empty street. It was pretty tolerable for a rainy day in December outside, but behind the doors arose a vibrant and sweltering atmosphere of chain-clad patrons and blaring music. Two buff men sat at a table playing Connect 4 as others watched and cheered. A disco ball swirled above a line of people all waiting to get into the venue area, which could accommodate about 40 people. When we reached the front, a cheerful employee viewed our vaccine cards, took our money, and drew Ts on our hands so we could enter. In the box, sound techs played with a plethora of wires running from the sound booth to the shallow stage. Amanda and I sat on some haphazard chairs in the right corner of the room and waited.
I like the time before shows start, when you are just standing in the venue with a couple other people and the band is setting up. Amanda and I had conversations with a few people, including a washed up former punk double our age and a PA punk who I especially hit it off with. I have a tendency to meet interesting people, but I always seem to have the most in common with people at these types of shows. I personally think I identify with it the most. Amanda on the other hand had stars in her eyes talking to these people, and I really liked that. Some dudes we saw at the restaurant were there, so she was talking with them and they invited us out to drink. Obviously we couldn’t, but those gestures always make me unreasonably content.
And when the music started, we were immediately blown away. As usual, I succumbed to the noise easily and became totally present. Heavy, fast, loud music used to overwhelm me in a bad way but now I love being surrounded by it. It relieves all of the tension in my body. Headbanging with all those people, as well as one of my closest friends, was truly an unbeatable feeling. Frankly, once I was there herniating myself I felt a bit smug and proud that my mom didn’t know where I really was. I guess the teenage rebellion came a little late for me. Lying is not something I do easily, but even in a case like this I felt justified in my actions. Mostly because I was doing what I love with a person I cherish, and because I could prove to myself that I could exist outside of my parents’ parameters. Amanda and I had such a good time in Brooklyn, and I wouldn’t trade that night for anything.
After the show ended, we made our way back to Manhattan and took pictures at Rockefeller Plaza. The tree was gorgeous, and the night was so humid that looking up, the buildings all dissolved in the dispersed light. I’d never seen anything like it. In Port Authority, now at about 10:00, I played a public piano and we waited for the bus home. Amanda kept telling me how much fun she had, and I was so relieved that she enjoyed it that much. I might be the only person who knows she has that intense side to her, and I’m glad I was able to bring it out. The night was truly perfect. My cover story worked, so I can officially say it was a fuck ton of fun and undoubtedly worth it.
In other news, I worked today and yesterday. I’ll talk about work tomorrow probably since I have the day off. I’ve got a bunch of miscellaneous stories to tell.
I did however have an awesome experience last Friday, this time out of my own effort and volition, and it required some pulled strings and meticulous planning. I decided I wanted to see a death metal show in Brooklyn whether my parents would let me or not. Knowing right off the bat that they would refuse to let me go if I told them, I decided to not tell them at all. If they were to find out, I would be in more trouble than I can even fathom because I’ve never betrayed my parents so hard before. This was a huge risk for me, but luckily I am a prolific planner.
Maybe back in the Golden Age of underground music, lying to one’s parents was much easier. Back then there was no phone tracking, no online transaction histories, no Metrocard or anything of the sort. Unfortunately, these were all limiting factors for me. Really the only huge hurdle was making sure I had the cash and means of getting about without my parents being able to see it digitally. So I took $40 out from the bank and prayed no one would ask questions. I told my parents that Amanda and I were going into the city to see the Rockefeller tree, a half truth since it was in my itinerary, but I assured them we would not be using the subways and would stay in Manhattan. And I did drag Amanda’s pop punk-loving ass along for the ride because I’ve been meaning to take her to a show just to see what would happen. She helped me cover my tracks, too, because Amanda’s a real one.
Anyways, I created a cover story so that I knew exactly what to say if my parents asked me about the day. Instead of going to the Lego store and crowded Bryant Park like loser tourists, Amanda and I took the L train to Brooklyn and had pizza margherita in a moody restaurant out in peaceful, foggy Brooklyn. Afterwards, we made our way to the tiny venue and experienced what I can only describe as the most ironic form of relaxation ever.
Gold Sounds is a rather quaint punk bar. Outside, a group of people in elaborate outfits were smoking and laughing amidst a melancholy and empty street. It was pretty tolerable for a rainy day in December outside, but behind the doors arose a vibrant and sweltering atmosphere of chain-clad patrons and blaring music. Two buff men sat at a table playing Connect 4 as others watched and cheered. A disco ball swirled above a line of people all waiting to get into the venue area, which could accommodate about 40 people. When we reached the front, a cheerful employee viewed our vaccine cards, took our money, and drew Ts on our hands so we could enter. In the box, sound techs played with a plethora of wires running from the sound booth to the shallow stage. Amanda and I sat on some haphazard chairs in the right corner of the room and waited.
I like the time before shows start, when you are just standing in the venue with a couple other people and the band is setting up. Amanda and I had conversations with a few people, including a washed up former punk double our age and a PA punk who I especially hit it off with. I have a tendency to meet interesting people, but I always seem to have the most in common with people at these types of shows. I personally think I identify with it the most. Amanda on the other hand had stars in her eyes talking to these people, and I really liked that. Some dudes we saw at the restaurant were there, so she was talking with them and they invited us out to drink. Obviously we couldn’t, but those gestures always make me unreasonably content.
And when the music started, we were immediately blown away. As usual, I succumbed to the noise easily and became totally present. Heavy, fast, loud music used to overwhelm me in a bad way but now I love being surrounded by it. It relieves all of the tension in my body. Headbanging with all those people, as well as one of my closest friends, was truly an unbeatable feeling. Frankly, once I was there herniating myself I felt a bit smug and proud that my mom didn’t know where I really was. I guess the teenage rebellion came a little late for me. Lying is not something I do easily, but even in a case like this I felt justified in my actions. Mostly because I was doing what I love with a person I cherish, and because I could prove to myself that I could exist outside of my parents’ parameters. Amanda and I had such a good time in Brooklyn, and I wouldn’t trade that night for anything.
After the show ended, we made our way back to Manhattan and took pictures at Rockefeller Plaza. The tree was gorgeous, and the night was so humid that looking up, the buildings all dissolved in the dispersed light. I’d never seen anything like it. In Port Authority, now at about 10:00, I played a public piano and we waited for the bus home. Amanda kept telling me how much fun she had, and I was so relieved that she enjoyed it that much. I might be the only person who knows she has that intense side to her, and I’m glad I was able to bring it out. The night was truly perfect. My cover story worked, so I can officially say it was a fuck ton of fun and undoubtedly worth it.
In other news, I worked today and yesterday. I’ll talk about work tomorrow probably since I have the day off. I’ve got a bunch of miscellaneous stories to tell.
