A Personal Day

personal day

cold. clear skies but strong winds and frigid conditions from the northwest.
I had a birthday, two weeks ago, now thirty-six years in this, and company policy allows a free-day-off "gift" for your birthday, so I took today. a personal day.
perfect day for it, after a night of irish punk rock, new york hardcore, and the "graveyard Cry Baby" performance in downtown Norfolk, courtesy of the tossers, horrorpops, sick of it all, and dropkick murphys.
a much needed night of release,
and overdue visit to the "church" of hardcore after so long a sabbatical since my last communion.
the show experience is unparalleled: waiting in line, overpriced beer in plastic cups, enduring the opening bands, finding yourself slammed together with hundreds of sweaty parishoners you don't know, singing along to the standards until your vocal chords are shredded, and, of course, finding the right t-shirt to take home to serve as a reminder of a perfect night of chaos.
recovery. for an old man, attempting to regain the voice you've lost, feeling the sore joints that were overworked for a few hours, stopping the ringing in your ears, and wondering why it's been so long since you've been to a show.
I feel rejuvenated: beaten, bruised, and beautiful, with three days "out of the office" ahead of me to do absolutely nothing on another winter weekend.
mahalo.