Makeshift Venue

This, tonight, amongst shuffling and shouts, is some sort of mash-up between a cover band and an original venture. Typical for starting out, you think. But nonetheless, a collection of things at once. You've seen it play out within DVDs when you were younger or within the modern-day equivalents of online videos: a band, no matter how unique or energetic they are, always compensates with covers of songs when they're just starting to break into the scene. It's a duty, you guess, to the audience. Multiple things at once to entertain, or to guarantee a catch.

You shuffle on your feet. You're around the back of this makeshift venue; it's someone's backdoor basement thing, shifted around to make space for a drum set and people and other things that make up a small live music show. It's useless to name them all, you think, cutting off your first thought with this new one. You've passed the threshold of exhaustion where unnecessary trains of thought take up too much effort, and so you slouch, trying not to draw attention from either other people or your own brain. You attempt to focus.

Your slightly close friend invited you here. Told you: Uh, no, no dress code! Why would there be? It's just my friend's show. Just rock out, man!, sent the general spread of information, and tacked on some variation of Be there or be square. This slightly close friend, who you are currently rethinking of as an acquaintance instead, got lost in the small mass of people. Or is around in the backyard, mingling. Or something along those lines. And so now, with sweat clinging to the back of your neck, you sway amongst the crowd, trying your best not to get thrown in and pushed around.

The lead sounds like she's serenading a lover. The guitar drones on. You think, Objectively, that must be a nice contrast. You can hear the bass a little better than you would in a finished and recorded piece. The drums slow and start up again. Quite a bit at once, and then back to a simple rhythm in a moment’s time. The people shuffle accordingly. You sway again. A droplet of sweat slides uncomfortably down your back. You wonder, vaguely, that maybe if it was very dead quiet, in a room with a very solidly smooth floor, you could hear a droplet of sweat make its impact. You brush that thought away, because it's stupid, because sweat is just water after all, and maybe, just possibly, you should be enjoying what's in front of you instead of going on mental tangents like an absent-minded fool.

So you try to regain focus. Trying, trying, trying, all night long. And you succeed, but possibly only with the help of a familiar song’s beginning notes.

You snap back to the band. It's like TV. You think, they're a little off-beat. But it sounds good. So you tune in.

When you were here before,

couldn't look you in the eye

There's a collective, yet uneven, sway going on within the crowd when you let your gaze wander away. You think you just saw two people kiss out of the corner of your eye. People are nodding their heads, zoning in and out of it at will, you'd guess. You consider, Is that me?

You're just like an angel,

your skin makes me cry

Back up front, the lead is glancing sidelong at the bassist, grinning with a decent amount of teeth. She's pretty, you think. You're passively observing this. She has a haircut that suits her face and her clothes are a great fit overall. Accessorized well. You've noticed others at this show, too, have a solid sense of style. Long flowy skirts with just the right amount of twirl. Belts from not-even-obscure brands, just ones you haven't heard of. The perfect color schemes. You glance downwards.

You float like a feather

in a beautiful world

You're wearing a pair of shorts and a medium sized t-shirt.

Some sneakers, too.

This all suits you appropriately. Nothing outside of the box.

I wish I was special…

You zone out without meaning to again. Start to think about your interests, your personal sense of self, your purpose. Start to think about dinner. Microwave pizza is fine. Another drop of sweat pools and escapes down your arm. You turn your head a little. Two people, the ones who you assume kissed before, are now holding each other and staring contently into each other's eyes. You don't want to glare, but you don't want to accept it either, so you end up holding your gaze for an uncomfortable few moments before turning back. You wonder if the pizza is still new enough to be microwaved after all.

...am I doing here?

I don't belong here

Your head hurts. Your stomach rumbles. So you turn on your heel and attempt to leave.

“Um, excuse me, don't mind me,” you half-mumble, as much as you can with the droning backdrop. The few people in your way at most nod for a split second before clearing the path. Cool haircut, you think. Nice earrings, you think.

You shuffle up the stairs, not with ease or confidence, but certainly not with an awkward gait either. You just do. And when you reach the backyard, you breathe in the cooler air for a moment. Then, you get right into scanning the scene. No one I know. So you let yourself slide lazily onto a lawn chair and take in not the chatter itself but the ambience of it. It's nothing at all, really. It should be something, you think; it probably should be something. But you're all generic clothes and cheap haircuts and sneakers that aren't quite worn down but not quite pristine either. But you have friends, you have responsibilities, you have things to do. But, but, but…

You take in another breath.

I don't want to be average.

You breathe out through the side of your mouth.

Another moment.

Well, I guess I am.

It would be nice if the whole scene just blew up behind you and you had a nice story to tell. But think of the people, but think of the possible hospital bills…

And it all goes around again.

So you consider, with a final note: Is it acceptable for you to leave without waiting for your acquaintance?

And the leaves on the trees continue to sway.