not the average fan reaction, i'm sure

let me tell you a little something about me.

i do not like people. a person i might like, perhaps a small group of persons. but en masse? as a horde? no thank you, i will have thirteen vodka sodas, season 2 of angel* and a taco instead please.

because i know this about myself, i don't often go to shows. i don't like them. they last just a bit too long and it gets warm at indoor shows and cold at outdoor ones and there are too many people and those people are often drunk and inconsiderate and they smoke the pots. go ahead, smoke your pot, i don't care, but here? in public? not all of us want to smell it. it gives some of us migraines, ok? so next time you're going to a show and you want to get all cheech and chongy please make/bring brownies or i will come after you and only walk away once i've got your eyes in my hand like baoding balls. because that's what my migraines are like, and it's impolite not to share.

anyways, tuesday night i went on a date (!) to the hollywood bowl to see black francis and stone temple pilots. this is how the conversation went when i was invited:

him: do you want to go see stone temple pilots with me?
me: ...
him: at the hollywood bowl? it will be fun and it's kind of a big deal to me.
me: ... ...
him: so?
me: i need to consult my rabbi.

since my rabbi really had no opinion, i frantically IMed my best friend and she sagely replied: "if you think you can go and either have fun, or at least not let on that you're not having fun, then you should go. if you're going to be miserable about it, let him go with someone else who won't ruin it for him."

SHE KNOWS ME SO WELL. i ruin things for people. professionally.

anyways, i looked deep into my heart and decided that since once upon a time i had enjoyed both stone temple pilots and concerts, i would give it a try. also, it didn't hurt that it was free. that's so shallow! i can't believe i said that! oh wait, yes i can. i am but an empty room.

so tuesday night. we took the shuttle to the bowl (which i totally recommend because it makes the whole ordeal much less stressful) and got there right on time to be tossed to and fro like cute little seahorses in a giant sea of douchebags with fake boobs and really really bad hair. our seats were really good (center, terrace box, second row) which helped with my slight people problem. except for the fact that the other person in our box was FERAL. like this is pretty much her:

image by chad savage

she sat down with so much ANGER i was scared she might eat me. she was angrily sitting most of the evening, except for when she was angrily texting, or angrily smoking, or angrily shouting for scott weiland to "shut up and shoot up." needless to say, i (sitting quietly in the box with a lap blanket) was appalled. i wanted to smack her face!

i didn't because i thought she might cut me, but also when did i become such a crotchety old lady?

the show was good- i had forgotten how many songs of theirs i really liked. scott weiland is so skinny and i'm pretty confident that he's also probably like 30% gay but i do not care. i would still go there. i would go there in a house, i would go there with a mouse. ok, no mice. unless he's into that? i guess i could be negotiable.

the best part of the show (for me) was the end- and not because it was over but because after walking along the edge and shaking hands with audience members and taking pictures etc etc, mr. weiland (scott? can i call him that? probably only after we do it.) scooped up his children and carried them sweetly offstage into the night.

it was a really beautiful sight, full of hope and love and all of the things any of us wish for. i was so proud of a man i don't even know for getting himself together and figuring it out- good things CAN happen if you make them, if you work. it was immensely poetic, and that image will stay with me a long time.

plus hot rock guy dad makes my ovaries go all asplodey.





*aside: i have to say that back when this show first aired i was very upset that they killed off doyle so early in the series, and rewatching it now I AM JUST AS UPSET. FUCK YOU, TV EXECUTIVES. WESLEY (pfft, wesley) IS NO DOYLE. NO.

learning curve

last night on my way to burlesque craft night, i stopped at wendy's for some "food." i just wanted some of those chickeny nuggets, you know? they're so salty and delicious. anyways, i pull into the fairly long driveway line behind some guy in a nicer car than mine. i'm listening to my music, trying not to make eye contact with the employee having his break at the table outside because HELLO AWKWARD I HAVE NO WHERE TO LOOK BUT AT A PIMPLY TEEN, and about a minute passes when he starts gesturing out the window. i sort of ignore it, because who am i to judge someone making shadow puppets or whatnot, regardless of time or location?

then he leans out the window and yells at me.

"BACK UP."

uh, whut? i turn down my music.

"BACK UP SO I CAN GET OUT."

please take a look at this wendy's. you can see it here. I don't know if you can tell from that, but pretty much it's in an inconvenient location at a very busy intersection, and this man wanted me to back up INTO THE SIX LANES OF TRAFFIC STREET so he could exit the line.

"COME ON."

"where am i supposed to go? you want me to back up into the street???"

and then he said, "JUST DO IT. DON'T GET ALL DRAMATIC DARLIN'."

yes you read that correctly. my hackles were raised. my face warmed. i backed up slowly and carefully and let him out.

when i pulled back into line, i looked into his car and noticed a woman in the passenger side.

as i sat there, waiting my turn, the heat boiled up in me. how rude of him! how condescending! dramatic?? for that?? and DARLIN'? that muthafucka. i'll kill him.

then (quite suddenly) i realized he's that girl's boyfriend, or worse- husband. he treated me, a stranger, that way and she has to deal with it regularly. without any warning i was reminded of all the times a man would say to me "you're overreacting" when i absolutely was not- the times he would say, "you're being crazy" or some variation there of when all i was being was independent, or in possession of reasonable expectations from a man who was supposed to love me.

and then, out of that, while i still felt sorry for the woman in the car, i was taken over with pride in myself- that i don't let people speak to me that way anymore and that i recognized it so quickly in someone new.

there are warning signs, i know this, and it's hard to read them when there are emotions involved (lust is an emotion, right?), but days pass and i grow ever more sure of my literacy.

on blogging

when i made this blog public again my intention was to post regularly. i love writing- i'm good at it- i have no shortage of interesting things about which to write- and i was sure i was ready for this commitment.

perhaps i was wrong? i don't know that i have the energy to do this. what i need is a good old fashioned cocaine habit. the thing about living life fully is that you can't find adequate time to write about it fully. and then someday, when my brain is addled and my boobs and triceps hang low like vines i will not be able to remember the funny way the hair grows on his inner forearm or the way she smells so strongly of pikake flowers and that pains me.

i want to capture it all- i want to be able to hold on to every bit of this. last sunday? i danced with a wirey and barely 21 guy at a rockabilly show. he had a two-tone wedge haircut and his license photo was adorable and he simulated playing an upright bass on me in time with the actual bass player as he spun me round and round, his hand on my waist and i was TheOlderWoman, if only innocently, if only ephemerally, and i want to remember that.

the date i went on with the guy in the bicycle sweater? the day i learned to ride a bike (this was only like two months ago, fyi, because i am remedial)? winning viva? the guy who woke up before me and fed my cats?? this is my life, and i want it all neatly filed and organized in air-tight see-through bins, with well-composed photos and perhaps scent cards and without a doubt pithy commentary.

this weekend i'm going to the miss exotic world burlesque hall of fame weekender again and i hope to have stories to tell you, because a few years from now (and i know this already from my dusty archives) i will read them and relive the most impressive moments of my life- be they big moments or little moments or mostly insignificant moments that have shaped me.

begin.