KISS Marathon

Bee Gee's marathon on Rage tonight.

Hmmm.

Reminded me very much of a KISS marathon on many, many, many moons go (although I'm sure the same KISS marathon has been on many times since but I have only ever since it once again and that was on video - mayhaps taped on the same night - irony number one, me thinks).

So, a KISS marathon. Not too far in time from a Prince marathon. In similar circumstances but with KISS now such an immediate influence. But the Prince marathon is another story for another time.

So, the KISS marathon. On the mattress of many miles. But no mileage on that mattress that night. No, not THAT night.

It wasn't until the next day when I realised the significance - or even the power - of that night. Yes, power. I don't think I realised that was what it was then but now I know. And now I wish I had known then. But then I wonder what I would have done with that knowledge anyway.

There was a bit of a rule back then. Sort of unspoken but one I think we all broke. An anti-sharing rule. Somewhat uncomfortable when broken but friendship was stronger. This was a time of broken rules. Not wanting to be compared but kinda thinking it's ok because there is a kind of victory in the here and now.

But the victory was more than I realised. Yet what a pitiful prize. And not really claimed. I guess that comes back to the non-realisation of power thing again.

Something as simple as offering to get a drink of water and actually delivering. Felt just like good manners and decency at the time. But for this particular guy it was a big thing. I guess there was a sort of anxiousness and eagerness that didn't fit. Kinda cute; too willing to be at my beck and call. What is a beck, anyway?

And then I knew that he was in love - or at least in something a little stronger than lust. And many words have echoed in the halls of my mind since but I push them aside to control conceit and vanity with the true effect being de-valuing my own worth. I just didn't learn, I guess.

But there was a very intense time that I guess I remember more than he does and it all started with the night that the KISS marathon was on rage. It was a strange but fun time. Donna Doona. Marty Microwave. The zipper top and the skirt and the boots. And B. And the '1001 things you can do with a broken guitar neck' game. And J. But mostly B.

Having known the self-consiousnessless of her having to retrieve her bra from the light shade and to feel that I was still desired was liberating. But as is my way I held back. Didn't want to go to the karaoke comp. And then that reminds me of a time even before then when I thought I was even more unknown but was remembered "man, she can sing" to House of the Rising Sun with my $110 mic when I should have been too paranoid to open my mouth but I thought that would be worse and it turned out that singing was really ace. So, not wanting to go out when there was even as close as it comes to begging to join them but choosing to walk home by myself, past the arch-enemies house. Sometimes I wonder what was I thinking but then I see how things have turned out for me in my life now and I realise that walking away was the right thing.

And then there was the meeting a few years later when all of the special things had been forgotten. And I was right to walk away.

And after that there was The Starchild. And the few nervous interactions, one of which referred to the friends that liked KISS with thoughts of the night of the KISS marathon behind the words. And that was really part of the spark. And it reinforces that every second of my past experiences are a resource for my present opportunities and the keys to my future successes.

Love to B, wherever and whatever. Love to the universe. Love to me and mostly love to The Starchild.