When It Hits

It's late and I should be sleeping but I was listening to music and had this vivid memory. When I was in fifth grade or so, my dad and I went to see U2 at the United Center. It was the Elevation Tour, a spectacle of lights and danger, and we were in the nosebleed section, high above the squalor. The music swelled and I was sort of terrified, afraid of the height and sound. But I was also electrified. I was a young thing but I remember being like holy fuck, I'm alive, and this is nice. I felt like all that interior madness was matched by the fire outside of me, like Bono was singing just for moi, belting out the lyrics with everything he had in his majestic four foot bod. Even now, as I sit here in the dark, I'm filled with some hazy excitement. I have this impulse for new glasses. I'm thinking square, chic, something to make feel all hot and astute. But it's a larger impulse: to see. I want some frames that will focus the night. I'm going to be somewhere, front and center, with nice clean glasses and blazing heart.