Posts tagged with "attractiveness"

The Dwarves Come To Town

Before head­ing over to Babylon for the Dwarves con­cert, Iain and I stopped into Record Runner to see if there were any albums worth buy­ing. I found the Dreamtheater con­cert DVD for $26 and was about to pur­chase it before real­iz­ing that I’d have no place to put it dur­ing the con­cert. I also found out that The Dears have a new album out which I must con­sid­er pur­chas­ing. I lat­er dis­cov­ered that they will be per­form­ing in two days at the same place, anoth­er thing need­ing con­sid­er­a­tion.

The con­cert was great. I did­n’t know any of the open­ing acts (Sack Lunch, Maximum R&R, and the Riptides), but they weren’t very good any­way. I nev­er knew how tiny Babylon is and was sur­prised to find air­plane seats and couch­es scat­tered around the large room. The size made for an inti­mate atmos­phere and com­fort­able view­ing, even for ver­ti­cal­ly chal­lenged peo­ple such as myself.

While Iain and I wait­ed for things to get set up, we pon­dered the things that would look odd at a punk show. Being Asian was the first thing that we came up with, although I did see one Asian girl and one per­son of African decent there in a crush of Caucasian faces. We agreed that some­one with an iPod or record­able MiniDisc play­er would stand out from super­fluity alone. One thing we could­n’t fig­ure out was the poplu­ta­tion of gay punks com­pared to gay non-punks. I joked about whether the more dom­i­nant male punk would make fun of his effem­i­nate, emo lis­ten­ing boyfriend.

There were some Dwarves shirts and CDs avail­able for pur­chase, but noth­ing I would con­sid­er wear­ing. Two thongs with the skull and cross bon­ers logo were spread out on the table in a rather embar­rass­ing way. Even a Blood Guts & Pussy shirt was there, and we were sur­prised to find that it lacked a sin­gle shirt pock­et.

When the Dwarves came on, there was no sign of HEWHOCANNOTBENAMED, much to our dis­ap­point­ment, although I sup­pose it was bet­ter for the crowd of all-ages. The drum­mer and two gui­tarists we did­n’t rec­og­nize, although one of them came on with sun­glass­es and a stock­ing over his head while the oth­er went skins. Blag entered with a sleeve­less “Slut.” shirt sans gloves or wig (come to think of it, I haven’t seen him ever wear­ing a shirt with sleeves).

Then there was Tazzie.

She came on wear­ing a dark pur­ple-blue dress shirt with a sequined nurs­es mask. Her dark brown hair cov­ered her entire face and at times she seemed like Cousin It play­ing bass. Partially through the set she took off her mask, unbut­toned her shirt half-way to reveal a lacy black demi, and flood­ed her hair behind her right ear when she got too hot.

It’s obvi­ous that every mem­ber of the band has a good time on stage. Blag body surfs and is gen­er­al­ly charged enough to keep the pit ener­gized, just as the leg­ends go. The gui­tarists all scream at the top of their lungs while hit­ting out the fast paced Dwarves tunes. Even the drum­mer is lost in a furi­ous fren­zy of adren­a­line. But Tazzy rocks the fuck out. She gets so into the music that she rarely looks up from her gui­tar, her eyes half-closed most of the time. She spas­mod­i­cal­ly bangs her head at each beat and each aggres­sive bass line. It’s almost as if she’s expe­ri­enc­ing an implo­sive surge of ener­gy while she has a look of qui­et con­cen­tra­tion on her face as the rest of the band wax­es chaot­ic around her. I’ve nev­er seen a more attrac­tive instru­men­tal­ist.

Plenty of great hair­styles were in the crowd, although some were rather shab­bi­ly done. The best one was some­one sport­ing a pink mohawk with a razor thin cen­ter strip extend­ing more than a foot out­wards.

The entire set last­ed more than thir­ty min­utes, which must be a Dwarves record, and sur­prised us since we were expect­ing any­thing from three to fif­teen min­utes. Now I’ll be look­ing for­ward to the upcom­ing AFI con­cert, and pos­si­ble Dears con­cert. Walking home on the bare city streets was nice and peace­ful, away from the con­stant stream of noise and peo­ple. It was a good way to end off a tir­ing evening.

Juicy

What is it about a speech imped­i­ment that is so fuck­ing sexy? I think part of the appeal is that it has the same attrac­tive­ness as an accent, except an imped­i­ment extends beyond the exotic­ness that an accent can offer. Maybe there’s the (sub)conscious detec­tion of a weak­ness involved that draws me, the way high heels are sup­pose to make girls look like they’re flee­ing when the calves are con­tract­ed.

I can’t imag­ine any­one being embar­rassed about such a beau­ti­ful thing. Lisps, stut­ters, stam­mers, slurs, tics; any­thing can make me melt. If a girl would speak, I could lis­ten all day with­out utter­ing a word. Even the strength of the imped­i­ment is of no con­se­quence. I’m in awe, from the sub­tle­ness of a lazy tongue, to the harsh­ness of an over­ac­tive genioglos­sus.

How can I even speak about some­thing as gor­geous as a unique, flawed, extra­or­di­nary artic­u­la­tion?

I can’t.

Tell Me I'm Right, Baby

There’s some­thing about a girl that apol­o­gizes. It’s like it makes her more human. I’ve always been one who likes girls who have their off days, instead of look­ing like a mil­lion bucks all the time. I guess it lets me know that they aren’t just super­fi­cial all the time, that they know that looks aren’t always impor­tant.

But when a girl apol­o­gizes, man. It turns me on. They know that they’re flawed in a way, and they have the “con­scious­ness” to under­stand it.

It shows that they’ve reached the third lev­el of under­stand­ing, as out­lined below, the first lev­el being com­plete igno­rance, and the fourth lev­el being com­plete enlight­en­ment:

  1. I don’t know that I don’t know
  2. I don’t know that I know
  3. I know that I don’t know
  4. I know that I know

Not only does apol­o­giz­ing show that one is at a cer­tain lev­el of self-aware­ness, it shows that one is mature enough to admit this to one­self. And, as we know, matu­ri­ty is fuck­ing hot.

It’s the admit­ting to one­self that I find is much hard­er for peo­ple. So many peo­ple that I run into have such closed minds that they refuse to believe any­thing that goes against what they’ve believed for most of their lives. Sometimes, when one admits one was wrong, it inval­i­dates a huge chunk of ones life and world­view. It’s a hard thing to do, and it takes strength, open-mind­ed­ness, and intel­li­gence.

Of course, apol­o­giz­ing is noth­ing with­out change, with­out learn­ing. Someone who learns great­ly from their mis­takes, and who isn’t afraid of mak­ing them for the sake of learn­ing, is just amaz­ing.

It all adds up; almost every­thing that I look for in a girl is encap­su­lat­ed in one sim­ple act of apol­o­giz­ing. It cer­tain­ly makes things much sim­pler.

Yet more com­pli­cat­ed at the same time.

Maturity

An attrac­tive woman got on my ele­va­tor yes­ter­day, which sur­prised me, con­sid­er­ing the num­ber of stu­dents on my floor, let alone my build­ing. I’m not sure what she was doing there, wear­ing her nice gray suit and check­ing her mail. I real­ize that I’m becom­ing more and more attract­ed to much old­er women, while becom­ing less and less attract­ed to girls my age, or even girls 10 years with­in my age. They all seem to be so…child­ish. It’s some­thing that’s almost repul­sive to me.

Childishness seems to be so super­fi­cial to me. And yet it’s some­thing that’s so hard to define. I sup­pose that it’s child­ish think­ing that real­ly gets to me. Even if one acts as a child, one can still be defined as an adult through a mature mind­set. After all, a man who cre­ates research mod­els with Lego should be seen as an adult with ideas, not some­one with a child­ish hob­by.

It’s these old­er women who seem to have a wis­dom that I admire. Perhaps it’s their mind­set, which I feel like I can relate to late­ly. Perhaps I just don’t real­ly know enough about them to find their faults and their weak­ness­es.

Or per­haps I’m just grow­ing up.

Put on some Chopin Nocturne

This one hurts.

God, I’m tired. I spent the entire day run­ning errands. I took my kit­ten to the vet, which was a fair­ly painful expe­ri­ence. A bitchy, though red-head­ed, sec­re­tary “served” me. The appoint­ments were an hour behind sched­ule. I decid­ed to hold off on a con­fir­ma­tion of the name until I felt com­fort­able with it, which I cur­rent­ly do not. I’m fuck­ing tired.

There’s some­thing about a girl with long, slen­der, del­i­cate fin­gers. They seem to speak of an intel­li­gence not expressed in any oth­er way. They way they move, the way they touch, the way they look. Sometimes dex­ter­i­ty is so sim­ply an attrac­tive fea­ture that one miss­es it, while being drawn to oth­er, more opu­lent fea­tures.