A crazy motherfucker

there I am, amidst a crowd
of 40,000 screaming people,
and there’s a small circle of emptiness
surrounding
me.

about 15 minutes into the
show,
people realize I’m liable to
injure them and they step
away,
leaving me with my own
little space
in which I can
bang my head
like a madman.

they rip into
“Creeping Death” and
I go insane. I
thrash my head up
and down like nobody’s
business, pumping
my fist in the air like
a nazi.

when “For Whom The Bell Tolls”
begins, and the bass drum
is shaking the building as
the chanting begins,
my body is no
longer under my control. I
have given it up to
the music, and the ecstasy is
glorious.

“Master of Puppets” begins,
and
I am no longer myself. I
have become my alter ego, my
Metallica self, and I’m
unbounded. I jump and thrash and
bang my head like it’s the last
night of my life. my being is
lost in the music, riff after riff, I’m
no longer a man, but a god. my
power and might
are legendary, incredible.

the encore comes, and I hear
the first
notes
of “No Remorse.”

I feel as though my
head may explode, my
excitement is unbearable and
completely lacking control.

the people around me
think that I have gone mad, that I
must be some
escaped
mental patient. but I
don’t care.

it ends, the show
ends.
I feel as though my plug
has been pulled. I can feel the
life ebbing from my body in
waves. I stumble out of
the arena in a
daze. depression, like nothing
you’ve ever imagined, encompasses
me. I sit down on the grass and
I cry. it’s over.
I must go home.

“The show is through, the
metal’s gone, it’s time to
hit the road.”