Yesterday would have been Joe Strummer's 60th birthday. As sad as it is that he has been gone 10 years, I can't help but smile because the first concert I ever saw was The Clash.
I was 15 and my parents had to drive. They dropped me and my friend off at the Fox Theatre, which was yet unrefurbished (possibly not a word, I don't care). Though I have no pictures of the event, I would bet good money that I wore some over-sized top, a pair of jeans (with naturally formed holes), and my favorite grey boots with the black straps. I am also willing to bet that my hair was over my face.
I was there with other kids I kind of knew, all of whom were a year older than me. There isn't much to tell, really. I didn't keep track of the set list. I've moved a gazillion times, so I know I don't have the ticket stub. I do remember that we were seated to the left of the stage, only three rows from the most enormous amps possible. My ears rang for a week after the show (no exaggeration). I remember that we stood on the chairs for the whole show because there was no way I was getting down front near the real punks. I was just an angsty teenage girl from wonder bread land. And, I loved the show and kept the t-shirt until it fell apart.
The funniest part of the night had to be the guys behind us - four guys in varsity jackets! Jocks! Oh the horror! Well, before the show started, they were completely stoned. They sat with their heads in their hands, looking miserable. We all had a good laugh at them. I just couldn't imagine paying all that money and not remembering a thing.
What's the story behind your first concert?
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
Do you still love me? You're fuck!
Somewhere along the line in second grade, a clearly troubled child taught his classmates the "f-word." I did not hear this word until fourth grade. My parents swore liberally, but the "f-word" was verboten.
I, also, am capable of swearing like a drunk sailor. But, I have worked very hard to not swear in front of my child. At first this decision was based on the notion that he was 14 months behind in learning English, so it was best to use the very best word possibly. Since Andrew was diagnosed with autism, and subsequently with child maltreatment syndrome, I am more pleased with my choice as I just don't want to hear him repeat those words over and over. Sadly, another child intervened and my hard work has been undone. Damn that little shit with the dirty mouth.
This summer has been daunting. Andrew has no filter and swears at least once every 10 minutes - usually, the "f-word." That on top of his incessant pinching of my arms and thighs and my head has spun every day. This past weekend was the straw that broke this camel's back.
As a family, the three (yes, all three of us) decided to take a road trip to Cleveland. Andrew complains vociferously about me traveling to shows or to London. "It's not fair," he whines. I have talked before about how my family really didn't travel and I don't want that to be the case with my child. So, we thought a short trip, only three hours away, would be a good start. We were wrong.
Our first stop was at the Great Lakes Science Center where he was completely over-stimulated. That led to a temper tantrum in the hotel. He actually laid on the floor in front of the elevator and refused to get up. That, however, was not the worst moment. In the gift shop at the Aquarium, on Saturday morning, he wanted some junky toy and I kept reminding him to not paw everything in the store. He told me to "fuck off." What am I supposed to do? Yell? Whack him? Nope, none of the above. I deaden my emotions and growl that it is now time to leave. But, thanks to "child maltreatment syndrome, this reaction scares him senseless. He begs, "do you still love me" and then in the next breath, he tells me I'm a fuck mom. This went on for a couple of hours. I was in tears, driving home. His father was exhausted and distraught. I looked at him said, "We don't have the answers, we need professional help." I made that call today, and I will keep making whatever calls need to be made.
I wanted so much to write about London, but I have spent two days crying sporadically. I guess I needed to get it all off my chest.
I, also, am capable of swearing like a drunk sailor. But, I have worked very hard to not swear in front of my child. At first this decision was based on the notion that he was 14 months behind in learning English, so it was best to use the very best word possibly. Since Andrew was diagnosed with autism, and subsequently with child maltreatment syndrome, I am more pleased with my choice as I just don't want to hear him repeat those words over and over. Sadly, another child intervened and my hard work has been undone. Damn that little shit with the dirty mouth.
This summer has been daunting. Andrew has no filter and swears at least once every 10 minutes - usually, the "f-word." That on top of his incessant pinching of my arms and thighs and my head has spun every day. This past weekend was the straw that broke this camel's back.
As a family, the three (yes, all three of us) decided to take a road trip to Cleveland. Andrew complains vociferously about me traveling to shows or to London. "It's not fair," he whines. I have talked before about how my family really didn't travel and I don't want that to be the case with my child. So, we thought a short trip, only three hours away, would be a good start. We were wrong.
Our first stop was at the Great Lakes Science Center where he was completely over-stimulated. That led to a temper tantrum in the hotel. He actually laid on the floor in front of the elevator and refused to get up. That, however, was not the worst moment. In the gift shop at the Aquarium, on Saturday morning, he wanted some junky toy and I kept reminding him to not paw everything in the store. He told me to "fuck off." What am I supposed to do? Yell? Whack him? Nope, none of the above. I deaden my emotions and growl that it is now time to leave. But, thanks to "child maltreatment syndrome, this reaction scares him senseless. He begs, "do you still love me" and then in the next breath, he tells me I'm a fuck mom. This went on for a couple of hours. I was in tears, driving home. His father was exhausted and distraught. I looked at him said, "We don't have the answers, we need professional help." I made that call today, and I will keep making whatever calls need to be made.
I wanted so much to write about London, but I have spent two days crying sporadically. I guess I needed to get it all off my chest.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
London 2012 - Day 1(ish)
This summer, one of my favorite cities in the world hosted the summer Olympics. I kind of enjoys big spectacles like the Olympics and love London, so why not combine those and have a visit. My friend Gill kindly agreed to tolerate my presence in her house for a week and even arranged for tickets to see men's beach volleyball. I bought my plane ticket and left on August 1st.
Sadly, a few days before my trip, I came down with a cold that would dog me for the duration of my visit, keeping me coughing and tired most days. Oh well.
The first night, took us to The Pelton Arms, a pub in Greenwich. Despite the fact no none of the my friends live in Greenwich, this spot has become the home base thanks to our favorite singer, Glenn Tilbrook. Simon, Nic, Cathy, Sue, Neal, and Roger all met me and Gill at the pub. We didn't stay too late as Gill, Cathy, and Sue want to get back to Gill's so we could watch a Steve Poltz Stageit show. A shocking side note to my trip is that I did NOT see Squeeze perform. It feels weird, but I'll get over it.
Just because there was no official Squeeze action for me does not mean I did not get a little Squeeze fix. I traveled about with Cathy and Sue to find important spots in early Squeeze history. For example, we found the house where they wrote "Cool for Cats," and the shop where Chris placed a slightly deceptive ad for a guitarist which Glenn answered. It was great fun and Cathy should be proud of her abilities as a detective as she located all these spots through Google maps and the following video
After our Squeeze pilgrimage, we met up with Simon and Nic in Shoreditch. I wasn't there long as I needed to meet Gill close to Hyde Park for a couple of free concerts. Sadly, I suffered an Olympic career ending boo-boo on my knee as I slipped in line, but I'll survive.
Inside Hype Park, we met Roger and turned our thoughts to food, beverage, and music. The first show was a band called Dodgy. I had never heard of them, but the show was enjoyable and free.
There was a little time before the next act, so food and a spot in front of one the many big screen television was our next goal. The park had been turned into a big gathering spot for people who wanted a communal experience of the games, but couldn't afford tickets. We watched Andy Murray beat Novak Djokovic. Needless to say, the place exploded when he match was over. Perfect timing, as it was now time for the next act.
Again, I had never heard of the band, Cast. They obviously had a larger following as the crowd was considerably bigger than for the first gig. I also enjoyed their music much more, though I can't really pinpoint why.
That's all for the first day. More to come tomorrow.
Sadly, a few days before my trip, I came down with a cold that would dog me for the duration of my visit, keeping me coughing and tired most days. Oh well.
The first night, took us to The Pelton Arms, a pub in Greenwich. Despite the fact no none of the my friends live in Greenwich, this spot has become the home base thanks to our favorite singer, Glenn Tilbrook. Simon, Nic, Cathy, Sue, Neal, and Roger all met me and Gill at the pub. We didn't stay too late as Gill, Cathy, and Sue want to get back to Gill's so we could watch a Steve Poltz Stageit show. A shocking side note to my trip is that I did NOT see Squeeze perform. It feels weird, but I'll get over it.
Just because there was no official Squeeze action for me does not mean I did not get a little Squeeze fix. I traveled about with Cathy and Sue to find important spots in early Squeeze history. For example, we found the house where they wrote "Cool for Cats," and the shop where Chris placed a slightly deceptive ad for a guitarist which Glenn answered. It was great fun and Cathy should be proud of her abilities as a detective as she located all these spots through Google maps and the following video
After our Squeeze pilgrimage, we met up with Simon and Nic in Shoreditch. I wasn't there long as I needed to meet Gill close to Hyde Park for a couple of free concerts. Sadly, I suffered an Olympic career ending boo-boo on my knee as I slipped in line, but I'll survive.
Inside Hype Park, we met Roger and turned our thoughts to food, beverage, and music. The first show was a band called Dodgy. I had never heard of them, but the show was enjoyable and free.
There was a little time before the next act, so food and a spot in front of one the many big screen television was our next goal. The park had been turned into a big gathering spot for people who wanted a communal experience of the games, but couldn't afford tickets. We watched Andy Murray beat Novak Djokovic. Needless to say, the place exploded when he match was over. Perfect timing, as it was now time for the next act.
Again, I had never heard of the band, Cast. They obviously had a larger following as the crowd was considerably bigger than for the first gig. I also enjoyed their music much more, though I can't really pinpoint why.
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