We went to see Frightened Rabbit last Tuesday, LIKE YOUNG PEOPLE, even though it meant we’d be out late on a school night because: Frightened Rabbit, OK? The concert was at Bogart’s in Cincinnati, and, not being huge fans of Bogart’s (the now defunct Southgate House being far superior), we went anyway because: FRIGHTENED RABBIT, OK? Bogart’s isn’t that bad, really. It’s just very cave-like, kind of like a hobbit hole but darker and dirtier and with stickier floors.
I looked up directions to Bogart’s the day before the concert, not because I didn’t remember how to get there (though...I didn’t) or even needed to know how to get there (Joe always knows how to get places) but because I wanted to see how long it would take us to get there from our house, so I could plan plenty of time for dinner, drinks, etc. Planning! It’s what’s for dinner.
As I so often do when looking up directions, I went to street view almost immediately because I like to pretend the tiny, yellow guy is me and I’m actually visiting those places. As soon as I set his/my sights on Bogart’s, though, I was hit by a wave of extreme nostalgia.
|My Photoshop skills are unparalleled.|
I don’t know where it came from. I’ve seen a handful of concerts at Bogart’s but I didn’t realize it was a place that held much emotional significance for me. I saw Spoon there, before I met Joe, though I found out later that he was there, too. We saw Andrew Bird there a few years ago, but my most vivid memory from that concert was that I was really sick and hopped up on cold medicine and I whined the whole time until we left early. I still feel bad about that.
I’m not sure when we stopped going to so many concerts. We don’t have as much money to spend on them now that we have a house, because it turns out having a house is basically like having a giant, needy baby. And we really only go to concerts if they’re on a weekend, our reasoning being that it’s irresponsible to get home on a school night after midnight, especially if something important is going on at work the next day. The repercussions are worse now if I stay up too late or have that extra beer. I’m busier at work and have more responsibilities than just showing up.
So maybe that’s it. I was just feeling nostalgic for another time in my life, that time when it felt like I had fewer responsibilities, more freedom to do whatever I wanted and could say SCREW FUTURE!JENNIE AND HER DUMB, WHINY FACE without too many negative consequences. Yet, when I woke up on Wednesday, I wasn’t all that tired. Work wasn’t any more of a struggle than it normally is. And I was happy to realize I could still go out and act like a young person during the week.
And as I stood at that weeknight concert, listening to Frightened Rabbit play a setlist not all that different than the one they played when we saw them a few years ago, I thought about how much my life has changed, what with the marriage and the house and all of my friends squirting out babies, but also how I’m still very much that same person I was then. I’m still a total weirdo, I still hate standing the whole time at concerts (my feet get tired! everyone is taller than me!), and I even have the exact same concert wardrobe that I’ve always had: hoodie, jeans, chucks. So maybe getting old won’t be all that bad. At least I’ll be comfortable, you know? (See above, re: chucks).
|This entire post was just an excuse to post a Tennant GIF.|