Okay, I think I might be willing to admit that I have a problem. An addiction.
My habit is expensive, but when I am about to score, I don’t even think about the cost. When I’ve got the goods in my pocket, I spend all day thinking about it, and then when it’s time, it is such a rush, and the high lasts for hours. No matter how down or tired I am it lifts my spirits and gives me a burst of energy. But the next day, after the rush is over, I come down, and all I can think about is the next time. On Wednesday, I got totally high, and then, on Thursday, all I could think about was how I could score again that day, if I really wanted to. I fought an inward battle. “No, I don’t really need it.” “But I want it so bad.” “Look what’s last night’s score did to you – you’re tired, drained.” “But it was so good!” Yes, this is the inner monologue of a tormented addict.
I am addicted to concerts. Specifically, Commodore Ballroom concerts, where I can stand close to the beautiful minstrels that connect directly with my heart with their lyrics and sound, surrounded by other addicts, swaying gently, or bobbing wildly.
Right now, for the first time in a long time, I have no concert tickets magneted to the fridge waiting for the special night. Actually, that is not quite true. Mark bought tickets to Keane this morning. But it’s at the Orpheum Theatre. Which, when compared to the sweet heroin of the Commodore, is like mild weed. I hope The Long Winters is the opening act.
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2 comments:
So the Decemberists were great? I'm so envious. You are lucky to have a great venue and so many performers that think Vancouver is a better place to perform than central Alberta. Aunt Cessie explained it to me the other day. . . we are just cowboys, not worthy of "great performances".
i second huey's motion.
let's hear about your great vancouver adventures.
did you go boxing-week shopping? how was the view of the polar-bear swim?
do tell all!
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