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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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Whoooooo are you? Who Who? Who Who?

Twenty years ago, Terence saw The Who on their first farewell tour. He says it was the first time he saw Mods outside of “Quadrophenia.” The Clash opened for The Who the first night; Terence had tickets for the second night, and can’t remember who or if there was an opening band at all. He says he was deaf for about a week afterwards.

I think the first show I really remember going to as a teenager was Madness. They had two shows scheduled at The Kabuki (way before The Kabuki was converted into a multiplex) and both were sold out. I waited in line for three hours on a Friday night, hoping against all hope that I would get in. I made friends with fellow nutty Madness devotees, compared pins and traded gossip about band members. We shared kraks, which is what we called the clove cigarettes we were smoking (because the brand was Krakatoa.) Kraks were somehow easier to buy than cigarettes, and we bought them after school at The Emporium’s smokeshop in Stonestown. To this day, when I smell a clove cigarette, it takes me right back to that evening on Post Street.

I can even more or less remember what I wore to that Madness show: red socks with pointy white vintage tennis shoes, pegged Levi’s, a vintage carmine-colored cashmere short-sleeve sweater (that I bought in Paris, at the American Church’s rummage sale) and a 3/4 length loden wool coat. Man, I thought I was the shit! So yeah, I got in to see the show, and was high as a kite from the excitement and exhiliration. I was a complete spaz-o-matic ball of energy. I nearly had a heart attack when the band took the stage.

The other thing I remember from that night is that I got home way past my curfew and was promptly grounded the next day. Thank god my room was on the third floor where I could stew and rock out in solitude. And I got in trouble for being an hour late; it’s not like I was fucked up on something or drunk... no, that would come later.

Being on the third floor was pretty cool as a teenager, actually. There were only two rooms up there, so my sister and I were left alone most of the time. My parents didn’t seem to be able to muster the energy to climb those stairs to see what kind of mischief we were up to (though the few times they did, my sister was stone cold busted.) I was pretty good about smoking pot out the window (sealing the gap underneath my bedroom door so that the smell wouldn’t seep out into the hallway,) and snorting lines of whatever in my closet or under the eaves of the house... Jesus, I was insane but very clever and secretive.

Goddamn it’s gonna be scary if I ever have kids.

7:16 p.m. - 2002-07-01

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