Moshpits Forever
Remember the Dandy Warhols? Well they're exactly what I need right now. I just woke up, I'm on vacation for a week, my stomach is empty and I'm still sort of half asleep, so today I'm just going to take it easy, or as my former teenage self would say, "chillax." Who am I kidding, I still use that expression.
The nineties were great. I mean, really wonderful times. I have to say of all the years in the nineties though, '98 was by far the best. I turned sixteen that October, got my tongue pierced, and went to so many concerts I can barely remember. The big one that year was Edgefest at Jean-Drapeau. I got to see a lot of my idols, including Foo Fighters, Bif Naked, Green Day and plenty more. I went with a group of friends, and ended up breaking my sandal in the moshpit, so I had to spend the rest of the day on the side with a few of the non-moshing gals. It was a blast, but I was a bit of a moron to wear sandals to an all-day, outdoor rock show. Live and learn, peeps, live and learn.
I always loved being in a moshpit. Not the kind I would discover in my hardcore straight edge days, but the fun, light-hearted bouncing that occurs when, say, the Smashing Pumpkins are onstage. After a while, I'd start to feel really connected to the people around me, and felt like I could rely on them to help me out if I should fall. And more often than not, that's what happened. When my sandal fell off, I had a hard time getting it back because every time I would go down, someone would inevitably pull me up, and the sandal always just escaped my grip. I succeeded in finally nabbing it one-handedly while my other arm was being yanked out of concern of getting hurt. Where are you now, kind strangers?? Who have you become?
When I decided to become straight edge, January 1st, 2000, I had no idea what shows would become like. I actually found out about straight edge-ism via a guy I was in communication with from Boston. I was part of BMEzine's IAM pages, which to be honest, was a late nineties version of what Facebook is like today. Except everyone's got facial piercings. You could have your own page, with an online journal, friends, picture albums, and you could message each other. Somehow I met this guy who introduced me to the concept of living without poison. And it clicked and made sense to me: why would I want to purposely inject myself with substances that would alter my state of being? I was one of three or four people that year who didn't drink at prom, and I'm glad I still remember the night's events.
I started dating "Gary", my first boyfriend, in the winter of 2000. He and I fell for each other instantly probably because I was the only chick in town who was into metal and indie music. I grew up in the boonies, so it was slim-pickings. We went to shows together and bonded continuously over music. He made me a great mix cd, which I still have today. Our intense relationship lasted a mere four months, but at 17 that was a pretty long time for me. Now he's married with a baby, and I couldn't be happier for them. Music has often been the link that brings me closer to someone special.
He and I would later run into each other at shows. The hardcore scene that I became a part of was frightening. I dated a guitar player, so we would go to shows almost every weekend during our 2-year stint. Sometimes I'd put x's on my hands to show my drug-free choice, but I soon noticed everyone else was doing it too so I stopped. I just felt good without a beer in my hand and totally judged those who did. It was good times, but very extremist. It seemed like everyone was trying to out-cool each other.
The moshpits at hardcore shows had a different chemistry than those I used to enjoy. It was literally each man for himself. I remember the stance I'd have to assume when the breakdowns started so I could protect myself when people were dancing, fists flinging into the air, legs kicking, bodies twisting. Hardcore dancing is so weird looking, and was a totally macho thing to do. It was like a weird, urban mating call. But I thought it was hot at the time, so whatever. There were only a handful of girls gutsy enough to get in there, and I always thought they were the most confident girls I'd ever met. Super hardcore heroines. Those types of women have always been the ones I admire most, girls that are willing to go balls to the wall for what they believe in.
Looking back, the scene was such a contradiction, because the lyrics and the music clashed; often the positive words were so reinforcing of my drug-free ways but then people got super violent about it in the pit. I guess it's the high of the music that takes over. A free, intense, non-toxic buzz.
I wasn't comfortable at those shows, probably ever. Everyone was tattooed and pierced, and really extroverted. I had shed my close knit group of girlfriends and I was trying to be cool in front of JD. That whole time of my life was monumental to who I am today. Living without alcohol, drugs or tobacco when it was being offered to me every other second was super enlightening. I carry a lot of learning from those years with me wherever I go. Eventually I decided moderation was possible, so I had my first beer since making the switch at 21 at a Halloween party. One Heineken and I was back, like I had returned from a long trip, back among people that I finally had something in common with; alcohol. When I was younger, I used to joke of having aspirations to grow up to be Janis Joplin prior to becoming straight edge so I'm glad that I gained some perspective and strong values during that time. We all know how Janis ended up.
I have a friend who's decided to live au-natural for several months. He's a pretty enlightened guy already, but I like listening to his insights about level-headed life. It's a good reminder for me. You're never too old to take a break, and recharge your batteries. In fact we should probably do it more often. It's a very grounding experience. Plus my head feels less foggy, which is a pretty good indication that it's a good choice to be making.
I'm a single, 28 year old woman, who hangs out at a theatre with wild and talented, beautiful people. They teach me what real confidence is every time they get onstage. They're the type of people who will pull you out because they care about your wellbeing. And that's the kind of moshpit I want to be in. Connected to people who give a shit. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Peace and love,
Katie
The nineties were great. I mean, really wonderful times. I have to say of all the years in the nineties though, '98 was by far the best. I turned sixteen that October, got my tongue pierced, and went to so many concerts I can barely remember. The big one that year was Edgefest at Jean-Drapeau. I got to see a lot of my idols, including Foo Fighters, Bif Naked, Green Day and plenty more. I went with a group of friends, and ended up breaking my sandal in the moshpit, so I had to spend the rest of the day on the side with a few of the non-moshing gals. It was a blast, but I was a bit of a moron to wear sandals to an all-day, outdoor rock show. Live and learn, peeps, live and learn.
I always loved being in a moshpit. Not the kind I would discover in my hardcore straight edge days, but the fun, light-hearted bouncing that occurs when, say, the Smashing Pumpkins are onstage. After a while, I'd start to feel really connected to the people around me, and felt like I could rely on them to help me out if I should fall. And more often than not, that's what happened. When my sandal fell off, I had a hard time getting it back because every time I would go down, someone would inevitably pull me up, and the sandal always just escaped my grip. I succeeded in finally nabbing it one-handedly while my other arm was being yanked out of concern of getting hurt. Where are you now, kind strangers?? Who have you become?
When I decided to become straight edge, January 1st, 2000, I had no idea what shows would become like. I actually found out about straight edge-ism via a guy I was in communication with from Boston. I was part of BMEzine's IAM pages, which to be honest, was a late nineties version of what Facebook is like today. Except everyone's got facial piercings. You could have your own page, with an online journal, friends, picture albums, and you could message each other. Somehow I met this guy who introduced me to the concept of living without poison. And it clicked and made sense to me: why would I want to purposely inject myself with substances that would alter my state of being? I was one of three or four people that year who didn't drink at prom, and I'm glad I still remember the night's events.
I started dating "Gary", my first boyfriend, in the winter of 2000. He and I fell for each other instantly probably because I was the only chick in town who was into metal and indie music. I grew up in the boonies, so it was slim-pickings. We went to shows together and bonded continuously over music. He made me a great mix cd, which I still have today. Our intense relationship lasted a mere four months, but at 17 that was a pretty long time for me. Now he's married with a baby, and I couldn't be happier for them. Music has often been the link that brings me closer to someone special.
He and I would later run into each other at shows. The hardcore scene that I became a part of was frightening. I dated a guitar player, so we would go to shows almost every weekend during our 2-year stint. Sometimes I'd put x's on my hands to show my drug-free choice, but I soon noticed everyone else was doing it too so I stopped. I just felt good without a beer in my hand and totally judged those who did. It was good times, but very extremist. It seemed like everyone was trying to out-cool each other.
The moshpits at hardcore shows had a different chemistry than those I used to enjoy. It was literally each man for himself. I remember the stance I'd have to assume when the breakdowns started so I could protect myself when people were dancing, fists flinging into the air, legs kicking, bodies twisting. Hardcore dancing is so weird looking, and was a totally macho thing to do. It was like a weird, urban mating call. But I thought it was hot at the time, so whatever. There were only a handful of girls gutsy enough to get in there, and I always thought they were the most confident girls I'd ever met. Super hardcore heroines. Those types of women have always been the ones I admire most, girls that are willing to go balls to the wall for what they believe in.
Looking back, the scene was such a contradiction, because the lyrics and the music clashed; often the positive words were so reinforcing of my drug-free ways but then people got super violent about it in the pit. I guess it's the high of the music that takes over. A free, intense, non-toxic buzz.
I wasn't comfortable at those shows, probably ever. Everyone was tattooed and pierced, and really extroverted. I had shed my close knit group of girlfriends and I was trying to be cool in front of JD. That whole time of my life was monumental to who I am today. Living without alcohol, drugs or tobacco when it was being offered to me every other second was super enlightening. I carry a lot of learning from those years with me wherever I go. Eventually I decided moderation was possible, so I had my first beer since making the switch at 21 at a Halloween party. One Heineken and I was back, like I had returned from a long trip, back among people that I finally had something in common with; alcohol. When I was younger, I used to joke of having aspirations to grow up to be Janis Joplin prior to becoming straight edge so I'm glad that I gained some perspective and strong values during that time. We all know how Janis ended up.
I have a friend who's decided to live au-natural for several months. He's a pretty enlightened guy already, but I like listening to his insights about level-headed life. It's a good reminder for me. You're never too old to take a break, and recharge your batteries. In fact we should probably do it more often. It's a very grounding experience. Plus my head feels less foggy, which is a pretty good indication that it's a good choice to be making.
I'm a single, 28 year old woman, who hangs out at a theatre with wild and talented, beautiful people. They teach me what real confidence is every time they get onstage. They're the type of people who will pull you out because they care about your wellbeing. And that's the kind of moshpit I want to be in. Connected to people who give a shit. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Peace and love,
Katie
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