UNTITLED

The best concert I ever went to was the one I went to last weekend. I remember the room tasted as fresh as cardboard, and although I was only one Liquid Death in, I felt as high as a kite (Liquid Death is mountain water, by the way, and no, I was not doing drugs).

I was seeing COIN at the Byline Bank Aragon Ballroom (if you don’t know COIN, then you’re not cool, and you should probably change that, and if you do know COIN, then I guess I love you forever).

I’m not claiming to know how we’re supposed to feel in this life, but perhaps I’d like to feel more like that again — dancing next to one of my best friends, knowing every word to every song, feeling weightless in the middle of the Aragon ballroom, bonding with Ashley and Emily (these random girls I swear I’ll never see again) and feeling myself sink into songs I knew only from tinny plastic earbuds. 

Yeah, sure, that’s heaven. 

Yeah, sure, that’s weightlessness. That’s life. That’s our only choice. 

We left the venue after the concert and stepped into the night, and I wondered where it would take us. To a cocktail bar. To a bar bar. To a dirty martini (hopefully). To a friend. To Amelia’s family home in the suburbs. 

There were so many choices to make that night in Chicago after the COIN concert. So many choices we could make with our freedom, so many forks in the road, such as: Do I order the cocktail called the “Pick-Me” because the name is funny, or do I order the dirty martini because I’ve been thinking about dirty martinis all week? Do we go to Halligans now or in 15 minutes? Do we leave at 1 a.m. or 2 a.m.? Will that guy named Jasper who said he’d order us two Mich Ultras actually order us two Mich Ultras? Was he lying to us? I could’ve sworn he said he’d buy us two Mich Ultras. Fine, I guess I’ll buy us two Mich Ultras. 

These days the burden of freedom has been the theme of my life. Being in control of my next move has never felt so terrifying, and knowing I can maybe, possibly afford a plane ticket to Italy if I just move some money around is even more terrifying (also knowing I can maybe, possibly order a drink called the “Pick-Me” is just hilarious). 

What on earth do we do with all this freedom? Certainly we don’t listen to guys named Jasper who say they’ll buy us two Mich Ultras within two minutes of knowing us. We also probably don’t book flights to Italy because that’s probably irresponsible.

But even in the midst of all this choice, I keep trying to tell myself that the only way in this life is forward. The only way is through.

“The only thing to do is simply continue.” 

That’s a line from Frank O’Hara. He says, “The only thing to do is simply continue / is that simple / yes, it is simple because it is the only thing to do / can you do it.” 

I’m not saying this is the antidote to feeling stuck or uncertain; I’m just saying it’s simple.

Aedan told me something similar several months ago when I was moping about a guy I sorta kinda dumped (or maybe we both dumped each other, it’s still somewhat unclear). I told Aedan I was worried I made the wrong decision. 

Aedan told me, simply, that decisions are only decisions. There’s usually not one definite right way or wrong way. You just keep going. 

Maybe Aedan and Frank O’Hara should meet sometime for coffee (if Frank O’Hara were still alive). Maybe Aedan is the reincarnation of Frank O’Hara, just a lot less poetic.

Maybe the weightlessness I found in the Aragon Ballroom listening to COIN is something I can harness here too, back in Notre Dame, Indiana where I feel so stuck and stunted sometimes. 

Maybe our weightlessness is found in this choice, our only choice, to simply continue. To hit forks in the road and know that the only path is forward. The only path is to meet more Ashleys and Emilys at concerts (girls you swear you’ll never see again). The only path is to dance in more rooms that taste like cardboard and take more chances.

Yeah, sure, that’s heaven. 

Yeah, sure, that’s weightlessness. That’s life. That’s our only choice.