With ABBA LPs and Flip-Flops to U2

So the other night I was out getting coffee and checking out my favourite flea market (How else are you going to get Cher stuff?!) when I ended up in Polo Park here in Winnipeg. Coincidently that was the night that U2 had their Winnipeg concert at the Stadium. I was there at around 6.30 and people were just pushing and shoving to get inside. Personally you could hit me over the head with a U2 song and I’d have no f-ing clue. So I just watched the security and the stage – which was huge, way taller than the stadium walls. I went to catch a bus to finally grab dinner but ended up back at Polo(stupid buses don’t run the same routes they do during the week). On a patio not too far from the stadium I had a great salmon and margarita – gotta love those - and quickly decided that I’d join the hundreds of people around the stadium watching the huge screens all for free. It was quite magnificent.

Despite the fact that I really wasn’t a fan they were cool. Unfortunately I found out that flip flops and a leather jacket thrown over a tank top doesn’t keep you warm at, what felt like -5°. Despite that I stayed the full two hours – covered with a way too big parka of some pot smoker that had shown up there and pitied that shivering mess I must have been.

However they completely ruined ‘In the name of love’ - widely known through Baz Luhrman’s ‘Moulin Rouge’(2001) – for me. It didn’t carry emotion for me. It was just a beautiful love song that had lost it’s meaning in deafening guitar riffs.
All in all through considering we’re talking about a rock band here it was a very mainstream concert. It songs were mixed, yes there were guitar riffs but rarely and far apart. One song almost reminded me more of the once shocking glam rockers of Kiss, their “I was made for loving you baby” was, I’m sure, a huge inspiration.
The whole concert was great but somehow their music seemed watered down from cutting edge rock to a more mainstream version that would for sure not offend anybody. While you can think about the band what you want Bono's politics are honorable... well that is if he'd actually live and breath them himself instead of just preach.
Over a 150 trucks are employed just to transport the three huge stages through North America. (One is used while one is set up and another one is being transported into the next city)

Somehow that just doesn't work for me... Save the earth, safe electricity and all that jazz and then he's using all that fuel(not to mention the electricity for the lightening effects of the stages during a show) just so? Just because he's Bono and has the money. It's hypocrictical in my eyes and not right.
Cher - a huge U2 supporter and fan herself - once said 'One never knows their believes until their faced with them'. Something along those lines. Bono obviously knows his believes but also knows that a more hippish, utopic approach sells more records, not to mention gets better publicity.

Honestly I was disappointed by the concert. Maybe it was because I wasn't part of the estatic crowd or oculdn't sing a single one of their songs but I wasn't too impressed. About an hour into the show two girls passed me and gave me their tickets. No charge, nothing. However I couldn't use them due to the strict 'No reentry' policy which really sucks.

Anyway, U2 is too rock to be considered pop and too mainstream to really count as rock. In my eyes they combine the least desireable aspects of both genres. The musics too flat, not offensive enough to be played when you've just found out your boyfriends been cheating you all along with your best friend. On the other hand though it's not light and fluffy enough to be played at a girl's night out or party. And then there's the not unimportant looks department, even the band members know that they are by no means sex symbols and probably never will be. Therefor they aren't even trying which is almost a point in their favor.

I'm not sure why they are so popular but they are. Good bless mainstream.

Getting home was somewhat easy, considering the route and the time. By the time the show was over - after 2 long, cold hours - it was 11 at night on a sunday. Upon finally getting downtown I realized that there were only 2 more buses going in my direction. Already knowing that without having phoned I was way passed my curfew I prayed to god that I wouldn't miss them. Staying out till midnight on a school night, not giving any kind of notice and then to top it all off being irrespondsible enough to get stuck down town at night? Yeah right, now that would make my host mother real proud. I caught the last bus just in time. I was freezing to death and then just as we were about to leave downtown(00:13) we were stopped and stood there for 6 fricken minutes just to wait for all the other ones coming from the concert.

It was quite amazing seeing all those empty buses wait and then leave all at the same time when the transit supervisor gave his okay. It was cool.

Getting home was not, but that's a story for another day.

Just another day...

This is a shortstory I had to write for my English class, maybe you like it, it's loosely based on what Chastity(Cher) went through in her movie Chastity.



Unconsciously her fingers entwined and unlaced from each other again only to repeat the process, her face was forced into a tight, un-readable expression. She followed a female figure, old enough to be her mother but much shorter than the woman the raven-haired teen had once called ‘mommy’. As she stepped over the threshold she was greeted by muffled sounds of pleasure, moans, the rustling sounds sheets made when they were moved… Her breath labored despite all her effort to keep it calm. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be here. Good girls didn’t go to the cathouse, but then again, where else could she go? Both of them came to a lobby, a living room almost were woman clad in camp fashion, slugged in ripped, filthy leather chairs and a couch. There were about seven of them, eyeing her in an assessing gesture, making her cross her arms defensively in front of her not too small, not too big, just right B cup chest. “This is—“, The older woman began, looking at her like she only realized now that she didn’t know the runaway's name. “Chastity” Was the soft spoken reply of the brunette with the extraordinary scrany figure and long hair. It wasn’t the girl’s real name, she had just picked it once out of a dictionary and had liked it.

The older woman proceeded to introduce the other women to her, but somehow all the brunette could hear was her own blood coursing through her veins. She sat down on one of the filthy, roughly used chairs and just waited. For what? She didn’t know. Her breath had calmed, her muscles relaxed slightly and she leaned back as a man was led in. Looking at the woman across from her like she was just a piece of meat; making her turn around for him to touch her full bottom and examine her flabby chest. He seemed to like what he saw, the woman looking indifferent to the touches. He turned around, looking at the short, older woman and nodding in approval. Chastity swallowed hard, having a hard time keeping her eyes straight forward and expression stern. It sent chills down her spine that she had no control over. The man couldn’t take his eyes of the woman, devouring her like a wolf with his eyes as he absent mindedly handed a Benji to the short woman, the owner of this establishment.
Then she took his hand, leading him, disappearing into one of the rooms and shut the door. Finally the young runaway cast her glance elsewhere, just to hide the disgust in her eyes. As the hours turned darker, more and more men started coming and repeating the process she had witnessed, finally a younger fellow was brought in and expressed interest in her. Focusing on an old oil painting of a corn field she let him touch her, let him assess whether she was worth his dirty money. Something in her face must have given her away though, the owner suddenly interrupted. “Not her, for your first time you deserve someone experienced.” She gently nudged him to the only other girl in the room. That’s when Chastity released the breath she hadn’t even known she had held. Once they had left the room the owner started looking at her in a strange, yet familiar manner. It took her a heartbeat to put her finger on it, it was the way her father had looked at her, that lustful glance like she was just a property. Her instinct told her to back down, take a step back and try to ignore her, but not this time, she forced herself to vainly return the older woman’s look. She was used to taking care of herself so she was going to handle this like the adult she wasn’t.

Unnoticed by her, the maroon top she was wearing was wet in just the right spots, clinging to her developing frame. Slowly, as if not to startle a young, innocent doe the older woman crossed the small room, Chastity’s heart beating faster with every step she took, a drop of perspiration forming on her neck and gliding down the smooth skin of her back. With a swift motion the older woman tugged a loose strand of black hair behind her ear, letting her hand softly brush the runaway's cheek who in turn had to force herself not to flinch. The soft caress raised the little hair on the back of her neck and sent her mind flying with questions. Why was this woman prompting such a reaction from the girl? Was just one of them.
Somehow she liked the soft touch but in another way it frightened her, scared her. She just wanted to run out the door and go back to her old life... what kind of life it was though; there was nothing that hadn't been controlled by abusive men, maybe this was a chance to change things. She opened her mouth as to say something but ended up turning her head quietly, while a clear question was ringing in her ears; “What are you doing?!” As if the woman was sensing the girl's concerns, she grasped her slender fingers with her own wrinkled hands. “Come on,” she said a soft smile gracing her features while a patronizing gentle tone carried her soft words, “you must be starving, have dinner with me.” The girl followed her like a lost puppy, still not sure what this would lead up to. No that wasn't true, she knew exactly what was going to happen but for some reason she was curious. They went up a flight of stairs, the older woman's hand never leaving the girls all the while walking through the dimly lit hallways – the paint on the wall crumbling off while the few paintings that had been hung clung desperately to their frail nails. Chastity didn't need to guess that the average guest wasn't supposed to see this part of the house.
Then suddenly the surroundings changed as she was led into what seemed to be private chambers. Everything in this room – a huge room – looked old and expensive. Something Chastity had seen in old Hollywood movies that her grandmother had watched while babysitting her. Those days in the sun, playing hide and seek with her older cousins in the woods just behind- “Sit,” abruptly she was drawn back into reality, away from the innocence of former days.

She stepped further into the room, following the older woman who had already taken a seat at the large table that could have easily held a dozen people. Pulling out a heavy wooden chair clad in soft velvet she swiftly sat down where another table set had been arranged, apparently for a girl the owner would take up there. The teen with the nose that was just a tad too long for her face was overwhelmed by the choice of delicate food she found in front of herself. In the months since running away she hadn't seen anything like this anymore, and even before that she couldn't recall ever seeing this amount; everything from chocolate cover strawberries, chicken, cooked fish to a large choice of nonalcoholic as well as alcoholic beverages of all kinds. She didn't bother to pray like she had been forced to so many times before but started right after her hostess had taken the first bite. Quickly she munched down as much as she could, but even she couldn't finish it all. Unbeknownst to her the older woman watched her curiously, a smirk playing on her face. Spoiling the deprived teen brought joy to her heart, she liked helping young girls get by and this wasn't the first time she was doing this. After their hunger had been stilled in silence the older woman got up walking behind the much younger female.

Now that she was full she knew she had to pay the bill. The older woman gently lifted her long dark hair that the young woman was so proud of from her small shoulder. Causing the girls hand's to clench in her lap and her heartbeat to race. 'Why is this making you so nervous old girl? You've been there before with your mother. All those men you parted with before the sun even rose, maybe this will be a change.' The young girl thought to herself, reminded of her past. So instead of playing dead she took actions in her own hand. She stood up and turned in the embrace of the woman, facing her, leaning into the soft caress of her cheek this time. The touch was softer than anything she had felt in the past, yet it felt wrong. Before she could form another coherent thought her lips were covered by the woman's, sealing them silent and robbing her of oxygen the more experienced tongue gently begging for entrance. Somehow as Chastity withdrew as the need for oxygen became greater than her curiosity – or whatever it was that drove her – the back of her legs connected with the soft sheets on the only bed in the room. Neither one had noticed that they had moved, yet somehow they ended up in the sleeping corner of the room. A gentle push from the older woman and Chastity flopped down on the soft mattress without much resistance. The older woman following her in a more graceful motion.
After hours of moans, groans, writhing in passion underneath the experienced lover's hands she felt spent. And dirty. Ashamed but somehow satisfied. The only thing she wanted was to get out of here. The older woman held her gently in her arms, one hand entangled in her long tresses while the other was loosely draped over her bare midriff. Gently she untangled herself, very carefully not to wake the older woman. Through the only window - that was cover in red drapery, like the rest of the room – she could guess that the sun hadn't even risen yet. 'Just another day...' She thought to herself before getting up, gathering her meager belongings and heading for the door after putting own her a little too hip hugging jeans and maroon top. She didn't cry, she hadn't since her father had left for good when she had only been three. She just went on, running down the stairs and out of the cathouse. One experience richer and a with a lot less self worth if she even had any left at all.
Back to the street where she had come from, hitchhiking, waiting for another man, another night, another meal, another trade...