My legs hurt.
It’s what happens when you’re in a concert venue and you’re trying to see the performers on stage. When the performers look like Kings of Leon’s Caleb, there’s good reason to stand on your tippy toes.
I'm a sucker for aesthetics, what can I say.
I’m only 5.2 and while certain things come with ease to people my height, I do suffer from 'height-envy'. I have it. That’s what I like about wearing heels. Or being with someone tall. Opposites, especially when it comes height, work well together. Especially when in concert venues. Height, I find, ads years to a relationship. When in doubt, go to a concert where you need some shielding from a rowdy crowd. Concerts make me feel safe the way a child feels safe when held by a parent. It's an odd mix of pleasure, safety, and comfort that, come to think of it, I don't feel in other settings. I have clarity of thought when in concerts. The majority of my most important decisions have been made while in concerts. The 'pleasure, safety, and comfort' mix added to a good dose of music is the right recipe for good decision-making.
I’m tired. Haven’t slept much. Had a stressful morning before getting on a plane to see the show and to make matters worse I have something awful stuck in my head.
Disney’s “It’s a Small World After All.” What?!
How does that work, brain, really!
I mean, I’m all pumped up to hear a live rendering of "The End" and can’t wait to feel the bass in the track and all my brain can do for me is gift me with a Disney crap song?! Eh?!
The first and last time I heard this disease of a song was in 1995 which was the year of my first [and last] visit to Disneyland. I remember feeling distinct loathing for the song. I mean, it makes sense. I was still doing Nirvana in ’95.
On the flight back home I wonder why, of all the thousands of tracks I could be thinking about, I'm stuck thinking of a track I would never be caught listing to by my own volition. Then I'm told, 'Well, what about your "La Donna e Mobile?"' I mean, granted, it's Verdi but a few years ago I was so ticked off at it I tried to starve myself of Verdi for a while just so that it would leave my system.
However, Disney track or not, live shows make me happy. Not just smile-because-I-can't-control-my-facial-muscles happy. 'Proper' happy. 'Craving nothing' happy. The kind of happy that restores a sense of hope that makes me want to promise all sorts of things to my person. And then on the flight back home, I'll be metaphorically kicking myself in the back as I watch an episode of Curb and think of how I'll manage to keep to my word.
Hm.
Then, all of a sudden, I'm told: "Don't worry, you won't have to deliver on A, B, or C. I know it was the music talking." Phew! I'm a chronic promise keeper so being relieved of a promise feels as good as ..., yeah, pretty darn good.
I reference music a lot and I do so because it informs every facet of life. In a way, I sort of, kind of resent its hold on me. I resent holds of all kinds and music is no exception even though it gives me much pleasure. Pleasure, is a tricky rascal, however. It keeps you hooked, like a good promise often does, and it often underdeliveres as with time you keep wanting more and more of it. Much like music. Only music rarely underdelivers. Well, unless it's Disney's "It's a Small World After All." And then you're, you know, ....
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