oh.my.god…
there are no words for what i just experienced. none whatsoever…it was just…just…oh my god! tonight i saw the institute at the paradise rock club on comm. ave. it’s only the second concert i’ve ever been to by myself. but, aside from the midget, there isn’t really anyone around here who likes gavin rossdale the way i like gavin rossdale. and when i say “like gavin rossdale” i mean, “wants to strip down and do very naughty, naughty things to him & his guitar” i fucking adore him.
why, you ask? what reason could i have for damn near worshipping this wonderfully delicious man? are you fucking blind!?!?! i mean, um…well, it goes like this. roughly 10 years ago, i went to my very firstest concert ever. i went with my coca — who, at the time, understood my love for all things bush (no, not that bush!). veruca salt opened for gavin & co. at fiddler’s green on a pleasant summer evening and i have not been the same since. i was like, 13 years old, right? so at this point, boys pretty much were useless to me. unless we’re playing a game of pickup on the courts or something. i mean, they were just other kids i hung out with…you dig? then i went to the bush concert. or rather, then i was utterly transfixed by the sighs and sounds of mr. rossdale and his bewitching guitar. yeah, of course i loved the music — it still gets me — but i hadn’t seen…i didn’t know! there’s something electric about seeing him live and in person. and it was apparent even way back then, when i had shitty seats and had to squint or stare at the projector screens to catch a glimpse of him, and subsequently rock out. 
but as i’ve said, one show was all it took…i was hooked. my first hardcore music crush — and likely the start of my “thing” for those of a musical persuasion. i plastered my locker with pictures of gavin. i bought every bush album as it came out. i’d thrash about my room with the stereo blaring, thinking about him thrashing about on stage…that gutteral voice, that wild hair, those eyes, those things he would do to his guitar. it goes without saying, guitar is pretty much instant girlie boner for me. i just fucking love the noises a guitar can make. i can fucking feel them deep down in my bones. and they feel fucking amazing. thirteen years old and my deepest desire was to be his guitar. my first desperately outlandish fantasy.
because, you see, watching gavin rossdale play guitar is like watching something very deliciously dirty. you get the feeling you’re not supposed to be watching…he doesn’t just play the guitar, he plays his guitar. it looks and sounds like this intimate moment you shouldn’t be witnessing, but can’t help staring, can’t tear your eyes away.
so. bad. so. good.
let’s just say, the man can put on a performance. and god, what the hell is wrong with me? he’s like 15 years older than me and 90% of my thoughts are of all sorts of nasty things i could do to him along with all of the wretched curses on gon stupid gwen stefani’s existence. i mean, really, how dare she be married to this lovely specimen of a musical man and not fall down on her knees every day and thank god, buddha, mohammed, allah, and the flying spaghetti monster for letting her stank ass even be near him??!?!
which is to say…silly crushes are silly things :p because, honestly, if thrown in a room with gavin rossdale i’m pretty sure i would squeal into unconsiousness & otherwise make a bloody fool of myself. i just wish i could say he looks old and busted up close and in the flesh, but um…nyet!
it’s only worse when coupled with music. because i fucking love music, and the band fucking rocked out. oh my god, i NEED their cd when it comes out!!! it’s fucking imperative. i must.have.it!!!! the guitarist was fucking out of this world. i may have stared at him in slack-jawed wonder — which was easy considering i was close enough to damn near get smacked in the head by his gorgeous, beautiful, magical, fabulously awesome guitar — and scream and cheer and headbang and rock the fuck out. oh my god headbanging. or rather, just thrashing around like fucking mad. do you know how long it’s been since i’ve gotten to do that?!
so much rocking out. rock out with your cock out! fuck yeah!
i get so fucking pumped up at concerts. just buzzin’ on the vibes, you know? thrumming with it. and part of me wishes someone else had’ve been there to enjoy it with me, because, like…you have to share that shit, you know? spread the love! can i get a witness?!?! good lord, have mercy!
::ahem::
i mean, it was so fun. of course, i’m still wired, and i needed the whole long walk home to chill out a bit and let a few smokes calm my nerves. post-show — well, post-awesome rock show — i am usually a million things at once. i want to scream, and dance, and run, and fuck, and yell, and dance and dance and dance and dear sweet mother of god that was fun! music music mmmmmmusic, fuck yeah! with the drums pounding in your chest and the guitar sizzling across your skin, fucking thrumming with it. god i love concerts.
i loved all the new material, and to appease the crowd they played everything zen, speed kills & machine head. how fucking much do i love machine head? seriously, folks. it’s such a good thrashing song. dear god, i’m bound to have a neck ache tomorrow…fuckin’ rad! oh god, and then gavin did a solo version of glycerine. god…
all you have to do to turn me into a complete puddle of goo is play glycerine…
yes, i am like 13 years old all over again, people. i can’t fucking help it and i don’t care. i fucking love everybody and every thing right now! weeee!!!
