Saturday night, September 8th, 2012

I highly recommend watching Phantom of the Opera live on Broadway after smoking a significant amount of pot. The surround sound made everything luscious and amazing, and the pyrotechnics were mesmerizing. The character Christine Daae (the Phantom’s love interest) had incredible tits and I think everyone was hoping they would pop out at some point. A couple of her outfits/costumes were very clearly designed to make sure even the guy way up against the furthest back wall, the cheapest seat in the venue, would still be aware of the awesomeness of that rack. Probably fake. But nice on stage.

My date figured out I was high pretty quickly. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” And she wasn’t very happy about it. “What, you didn’t think it’d be interesting enough so you smoked up first? Sheesh.”

Here’s the thing– I tried early to explain that I probably wasn’t the best person to take to a show like that. It’d probably be a waste for me.  Someone else who actually likes that kind of thing would probably enjoy it more. You should take them. Maybe we could watch the Book of Mormon or something like that. I like ballet and modern dance very much. But musicals don’t interest me, at least so far. Miss Saigon was boring. Cats was OK. But if a person thinks the most successful Broadway show of all time is merely “OK”, then probably not a good idea to bring them to anything else. (Except for Book of Mormon).

But she insisted I give it a chance and still really wanted me to go– that one specifically. So I did.

I tend to.

I met her outside the venue. She had dressed up incredibly: super high heels and a tight blue dress, makeup and earrings. She wanted to test the shoes out before a wedding she got them for which is today. She got everyone’s attention just walking up the street, and I can’t imagine what the subway ride must have been like. Maybe she cabbed it. Even in the venue people checked her out for minutes on end. I hadn’t seen her done up to this extent before. Before the show she used the restroom and I leaned against a wall, waiting. A fat man, probably a tourist (you know how you can just tell?) watched her come out and quietly said to me: “Whew, beautiful!” not knowing she was coming to me. She walked over to where I was standing and I hate to say it, but it was a neat moment. The hottest chick in the room coming to me. But I killed the moment quickly. Shallow shit. “Nice piss?” She laughed.

I wore a Necrophagist t-shirt that has a rotting human corpse on the front, and black pants with black boots. I’m pretty muscular and lean right now, about 190lbs, getting ready for a big tourney in Montreal in a couple months. I fill my shirts out pretty well. She said I looked awesome and that was a relief since together we probably looked odd– a glamed-out super beauty and a violent-looking metalhead. But she digs it. I know from experience…

We were at a metal show a couple weeks ago and she mostly stood behind me to not get knocked over by the moshers. At some point during the show I heard her yell at someone to move away. When I heard her yell “get away!” again, I turned around and saw a shirtless meathead with really lame tattooes sort of half-headbanging and pressed up against her. The first thought that entered my mind was: what is a meathead doing at a Dying Fetus show? You just don’t see that very often. At most good extreme metal shows you get a good mix of people– hardcore metal heads, and also people who just dig the music, the sound–the extreme art. What you don’t usually see are the Bud-drinking fake-o tough guys. The sort that always seem to end up shirtless really quickly. You know, frat types. You know, football players or fans.

Anyway, I turned and was sort of surprised to see someone like that at the show. He looked at me looking at him and after a few seconds he took a step toward me and my heart went calm and glad. In those moments before fast, sudden violence of action, I feel more alive than at any other time, and my heart becomes glad. Justified violence is what I was made for. It’s in my genes, it’s the only way I can explain it. I yearn for it. I need it. It had been a couple years and I was so into something happening, my legs were springy and I was already so pumped from the heavy riffs. I was just about to make sure it would escalate, by smiling at him, but suddenly he put his hands up and walked back and into the crowd. Fuck. The one that got away.

That happens sometimes and you just let it go. Not everyone is looking for that kind of action when it suddenly becomes real.

My date, the same girl who took me to Phantom, was a little scared in the moment, but brings it up constantly now, when we’re with other people, and when we’re alone. She likes to thank me for it, and I think it turns her on. She’s mentioned it a few times, especially before intimacy.  But the truth is that I didn’t do it for her. I wanted the action. It’s tough to stay aware of being alive in the city, especially if toys don’t do much for you.

It’s not fair to be that way, to take people by surprise like that. Maybe he could sense it and that’s why he backed out. I need to hide the thirst better.

Enough of the tangent.

The show was amazing. Obviously I’m not sure how much of my enjoying it came from the sensory enhancements provided by the plant. But I hereby declare that they should make pot available at all Broadway shows, right at the door.

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Heavy training this weekend at the MMA gym. I screwed up my schedule and had sparring today, 3 5-minute rounds with helmet and shin guards, and I have almost the same tomorrow, with helmet, shin guards and sparring vest.

Some people call sparring vests “rib guards”, but that never made good sense to me. Yes it protects the ribs, but also the kidneys, solar plexus and abdomen, and those things are way more vulnerable than your ribs. Your ribs actually are a form of armor– a cage that protects most of your guts. But your kidneys, plexus, liver and intestines are outside the cage. Those are what you need the vest for, mostly. So, if it comes up, go with sparring vest.

Odd to be posting on a Saturday night, but I’m having the alone time I’ve been wanting. I cleaned up a bit, read Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein– highest recommendation btw– and am now taking some protein before catching up on some play station and falling asleep to a podcast. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. :)))))))