Andare, Partire, Tornare

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Week of a Thousand Shows

“Amy Lee is the Goth girl mothership,” observed Persia sagely as we were waiting for Evanescence to take the stage. “They all answer to her call.” She was right, too – we were surrounded by earnest gothlets in various forms of black (mesh shirts, slave pants, hair, boots) who were just salivating waiting for the show to start.

Sadly, they (and we) first had to endure an utterly abysmal opening band. I won’t go into it, as I think Persia is plannning to talk about it in more detail, but suffice it to say that the word “Mississippi” is probably going to be enough to send her into a killing rage from now on. I will also say that it’s very easy to concentrate on making your long hair swish in a circle when you only have to concentrate on playing two notes on your bass.

The next band up was Default, and they kicked ass. I might have to buy their cd, as the lead singer has a gorgeous voice. They have a sound that’s pretty damn close to Nickleback, but since Nickleback is starting to piss me off, I might just shuffle any cd-buying tendencies over to their cuter Canadian compatriots.

The reason we were all there, however, was Evanescence. I was a little leery of how good things would be, because although I liked the album a lot, I had seen a completely botched New Years Eve performance that made me wonder if Amy Lee could perform live at all. She came out in a Pretty Pretty Goth Princess getup - sparkly tiara, black tanktop, and tiered white lace skirt, and proceeded to kick ass and take names, despite being grabbed at one point by a guy who leaped on stage and tried to hug her (and got his windpipe crushed by security for his trouble). Her voice did indeed hold up during the slower, more vocally demanding numbers, and she just sounded great.

All of this was the final night of the Week of A Thousand Shows – the night before, Bemo and I saw Jon Stewart and laughed nonstop for a solid hour and a half. The man was frickin’ brilliant. You can’t really encapsulate a comedy concert, because so much of it is in the experience iteself, so all I can say is if he comes to your neck of the woods, go see him. It’s a more intense experience because he can be completely uninhibited in his language, and there were moments where I actually hurt from laughing so hard.

Sunday was spent packing things up in boxes, having wild monkey sex, and then going out for coffee and then Oscar-watching with Persia and Cher. Watching massive glitzy self-indulgent shows is always best in the company of people who will make rude remarks but who are also knowledgable movie-watchers, so things were good – Persia is a passionate movie watcher who also has a fantastic capacity for hatin’ on celebrities, and Cher has a good eye for a dress and also serves to rein in some of Persia’s and my cruel streak. And Bemo had eye-candy in the form of Liv Tyler and her 60’s cat glasses, so all was good.

And now, it is Monday, and I will spend it doing condition reports on the outgoing maps and helping haul crates in to be packed up during the week. All will be well and all will be well and all manner of things will be well.

10:32 a.m. - 2004-03-01

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