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?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."
him: at the hollywood bowl? it will be fun and it's kind of a big deal to me.
me: ... ...
me: i need to consult my rabbi.
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
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.