Journal Entry, 10/11/20:
I felt Her again last night after watching clips of Laura Jane Grace and Against Me! play 4 albums and an acoustic set at The Fest from last year. I finished reading her memoir on my girlfriend and I’s camping trip Friday morning and it ended on a really bittersweet note. LJG had come out, but was in the process of both reconstruction of her new self and the deconstruction of her old self. Divorce; the band’s future being uncertain. When I watched her episode of “The Therapist,” I felt her journey only ended in this bittersweet pain.
But watching her perform at Bo Diddley Plaza and Civic Media Center, places I’ve been to when they’ve been both crowded and times when they were empty and silent — ironically when I had already left the punk scene — felt affirming. This is the word that comes to me in a most solid form. Affirming. LJG had returned to Gainesville to play a monstrous set. The band played 4 albums in a row at Bo Diddley and LJG played an hour-long acoustic set at CMC; playing the last two songs, “Baby, I’m an Anarchist” and “Sink, Florida, Sink” outside for the 70~ people that couldn’t fit inside CMC.
Everyone sang along to the old songs and the new trans anthem songs. Knowing how much discord lay between her and her original audience for so long, to see this was magical. There was unison; celebration; and peace. It made me remember the magic of being at punk shows. It made me remember the nature of the punk scene as I experienced it: ambition is not required. The fun of making songs; the fun of playing them for your friends and acquaintances; the fun of everyone sharing and experiencing in their own way one intense feeling.
I know her life isn’t perfect now. (I’m remembering her saying how she hates Chicago before playing “Spanish Moss,” and saying how much she misses Gainesville and Florida — a desire that can be hard to consider for some, as being a Floridian often involves hating it there). But seeing this was the “happy ending” I needed.
After I closed my laptop and got ready for bed, I reached over and pet my cat, scratching her head. That’s when I felt Her. I saw Her hand giving the gentle scratches. Her nails becoming longer than mine just for a moment. I felt Her in my throat as I spoke, and in my head as my girlfriend and I joked about our cat. I felt in the moment myself congeal. I didn’t feel like I was pretending or settling into my doubtful existence. I felt like someone who could be firmly called “me.” For a moment I felt the possibility that everything could be okay.
