I love – love – love 80’s rock music. I feel the most alive and free and happy at any venue that show cases live bands, musicians, and entertainers.
Banging my head at the show tonight on Freemont Street made me fall in Love with life once again. And it has been a long time since I remember loving life.
I hold a magical and mystical feeling about the performers – the ones that I don’t walk out on anyways.
I feel about Rock Stars the way Trekkies feel about Star Trek.
And I don’t want to humanize the Rock Stars that I adore either.
Some things on this earth deserve to remain sacred and preserved in my imagination.
I don’t want to get to know them, I don’t want my love and interpretation of their songs that move me because of my own experiences, tainted by learning the artists backstory for the song.
I also don’t want to be introduced to a rock star and walk away from them thinking they are just a fucking douche.
To be fair, I don’t want to get to know anything about any of them. Ever.
At best (in my mind) it will just be anti-climatic, at worst!!! Ultimately disappointing.
This has absolutely nothing to do with any Rock Star.
It is the simple reality that we are are merely human. And God, I do not want to witness my favorite Rock Stars being their version of Clark Kent, I am selfish and I want them to remain in my mind’s eye as Superman.
I fucking love Rock and Roll. I love it so much, I don’t want that image to be tainted by the reality of who these Rock Stars are as regular people.
I have plenty of regular in my life. I do not want to ever make regular the superheroes of Rock and Roll.