the ringing in my ears

i don't know what it is about boys in bands that does it for me, but i fall. i like the idea of a beautiful mind who can make music out of words. poetry that flows to an air. and a beat you can dance to the tap tap snare bang boom. and the nimble fingers plucking the guitar strings, pulling and stroking them up and down, running away with a mind of their own, playing and caressing long and loose. music is my boyfriend and music is my hot hot sex. a world without it just isn't worth it. skinny boys with lots of power. veins forcing through on lower forearms, biceps stringing out above. lumps and bumps of skin and bones pumping blood and adrenaline and passion and heat. the drummer's at the back thrashing it out letting loose a wild and manic force beating and smashing. smashed. smashing. sweating. stdrumming.
as long as it's more than just noisy noise and overly turned inward knees leading feet into stomping it's fine. as long as there are words and not screams it's good. i'll go there alone to stand look and listen. to fall. to forget for a while about all else but the ringing in my ears which carries on long after the final tune.
upstairs in whelans: first up were the band who were too noisy and the room too empty. a shout out to the other bands and few comprehensible lyrics but one i did like, something about wanting to be peter pan and jack kerouac. the ralphs were the reason i was there - jamie's invite at graduation and a reminder in a text message. the music needs refining but the words aren't too forced. he warmed up with a song whose lyrics i know because nora heard them with me long ago in the roisin and poked me with a sly wink, his seeing a girl in college and noticing they dress the same. seeing her in the library and wishing her number would appear on a piece of paper for him and maybe even with an x for a kiss. but being the funny boy that he is, a later song made me smile to myself when he cried out his joy at finally writing a song about nothing at all but making you think it's about you. the coonics were by far the best with less things happening all at once. four unassuming boys making pretty noises and carrying themselves away on stage; to hell with impressing the crowd they were enjoying it for what it was.
the after-show banter and back-stage beer brought me to bedtime and breakfast was served with dumbed down hearing because of the ringing in my ears.