Saturday Sept 17
I am in New Brunswick. The sun has not yet arisen, and we are out the door, cramming the back of the vehicle and heading out, going further north on the north American continent than we have ever been before. Cool. It is not a warm day. We Say good bye to the last of Moncton and drive away. And we Drive and Drive and drive and drive and drive and drive. We eventually make it back towards the USA border crossing, and I ask to be let out so that I can go home, but I am forced to continue. Something is driving me onwards, I can not explain. Trees and trees and trees. A whole lot of nothing but nature out the windows. Following the river, and up and down the hills and around the Mountains we are given glimpses of what the original inhabitants and the first settlers might have seen. Lovely vistas, blue sky, and green with hints of the color changes, not approaching peak season yet, and we have the road to ourselves.
After and eternity and a time change back one hour we arrive in Quebec City, civilization on the river, clinging to the sides of the hills. I could be anywhere, this city is so familiar yet foreign, it is not like a North American city at all, glimpses of Europe every where. They clean the streets every day, they let people cross the streets, and the buildings huddle together, leaning this way and that, a cobbled collection of stone and wood and tile.
We check into our digs, a comfy roomy room, and trash it leaving little walking space. Hand laundry is done and hanging up, cosmetics strewn around the lavatory, and a reorientation to room elevator and lobby. Funny the faces you see when traveling. Especially your own.
Another committee meeting and security issues are clarified, and we are requested to cause trouble, at least we dream. Found a lovely pub and sated ourselves, and walked around getting the last of the travel cramps out of our legs, and enjoy the night sky. I Saw Jupiter. Amazing watching the sturdy draft horses and the coaches all try to get around the same narrow passage, and no one honked, or used loud profanity. Wow.
A great night sleep, everyone should try this, sleeping. So this is what others do while on holiday, I am usually out in search of itinerant musicians to torture, and it is unusual to have a night off, I feel lost, but fatique wins out.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Friday Sept 16
Woke up in Nova Scotia for the last time. Finally found a man in a kilt willing to spend time with me, at least for a picture. After a committee meeting, an update to the Boss, we do our duty and then take off for New Brunswick. We Stop and pay our respects to the Dead of the Titanic. A Simple and fitting memorial to those who made it only to Halifax as their final destination; brought tears to my eyes.
Bridges, highways, trucks, funny looking cars, Signs for Moose crossing, but never any moose. Lots of trees.
We pull into Moncton, a nice place, not as picturesque as Halifax, but we stumble upon a nice pub and I had a pasty and mash. YUM, and non caloric. Soap and water to wash off the road, as I had become insanely jealous of the car window each time I cleaned it. I did have to yell at some of the bugs as they hit hard.
Did find out along the way that I needed to brush up on pachyderm identification. We passed by what was clearly and elephant, but I was corrected and told it was a mastodon, a statue on mastodon hill, mind you. Looked like and elephant to me. Must stay inside one day and study.
But not today.
Ablutions done. We drive thru town to the colliseum. The Marquee was dark, and it looked like the parking lot was empty. Oh no, were we in the right place? I was assured that we were not led astray and that the appropriate people would arrive at the appropriate time, and sing the appropriate songs. Phewww, started to doubt myself. We meet up with the other person there, and went to our seats. All in a little cluster of familiarity, a small cluster, what is smaller than a cluster? A blister? S pimple ? Well, we were there and that was important, and shocking to some.
Appreciations all around, we appreciated them, they appreciated us. Winks and waves to those who were known, and to the unknown.
A big thanks to those unknown who purchase the tickest and put bums in seats allowing those of us to travel from place to placeto have a destination. But why do I get the Big Giant Head in front of me each time? We had talkers around us, and I learn a lot.
In Moncton tonight I learned that the Keyboard player is John Lennons son, cool.
In Halifax I heard a lady describe naughty things she was reaching on her own while listening to YWD. Ewwww
In Manchester I learned that G is 79 and that JH is 74, oh no
I also had found out that they had been on the road since June, and that this is the last North American appearance. Good to know.
Sound was great for a hockey rink and hollow stage, no reverb or extra vibrations
Vocals were spot on, a few cracks that were so minor I hesitate to mention them, as no one noticed.
Bass could have been louder keyboards could have been louder, as I am losing my hearing, and need all things done to my specifications.
Stand out songs
Driftwood, never better and someone was quite pleased with himself, I saw enthusiasm.
IJAS bouncy
NIWS meaningful, but I did not need a cigarette afterwards
H&H extra twiddly guitar bits.
Woke up in Nova Scotia for the last time. Finally found a man in a kilt willing to spend time with me, at least for a picture. After a committee meeting, an update to the Boss, we do our duty and then take off for New Brunswick. We Stop and pay our respects to the Dead of the Titanic. A Simple and fitting memorial to those who made it only to Halifax as their final destination; brought tears to my eyes.
Bridges, highways, trucks, funny looking cars, Signs for Moose crossing, but never any moose. Lots of trees.
We pull into Moncton, a nice place, not as picturesque as Halifax, but we stumble upon a nice pub and I had a pasty and mash. YUM, and non caloric. Soap and water to wash off the road, as I had become insanely jealous of the car window each time I cleaned it. I did have to yell at some of the bugs as they hit hard.
Did find out along the way that I needed to brush up on pachyderm identification. We passed by what was clearly and elephant, but I was corrected and told it was a mastodon, a statue on mastodon hill, mind you. Looked like and elephant to me. Must stay inside one day and study.
But not today.
Ablutions done. We drive thru town to the colliseum. The Marquee was dark, and it looked like the parking lot was empty. Oh no, were we in the right place? I was assured that we were not led astray and that the appropriate people would arrive at the appropriate time, and sing the appropriate songs. Phewww, started to doubt myself. We meet up with the other person there, and went to our seats. All in a little cluster of familiarity, a small cluster, what is smaller than a cluster? A blister? S pimple ? Well, we were there and that was important, and shocking to some.
Appreciations all around, we appreciated them, they appreciated us. Winks and waves to those who were known, and to the unknown.
A big thanks to those unknown who purchase the tickest and put bums in seats allowing those of us to travel from place to placeto have a destination. But why do I get the Big Giant Head in front of me each time? We had talkers around us, and I learn a lot.
In Moncton tonight I learned that the Keyboard player is John Lennons son, cool.
In Halifax I heard a lady describe naughty things she was reaching on her own while listening to YWD. Ewwww
In Manchester I learned that G is 79 and that JH is 74, oh no
I also had found out that they had been on the road since June, and that this is the last North American appearance. Good to know.
Sound was great for a hockey rink and hollow stage, no reverb or extra vibrations
Vocals were spot on, a few cracks that were so minor I hesitate to mention them, as no one noticed.
Bass could have been louder keyboards could have been louder, as I am losing my hearing, and need all things done to my specifications.
Stand out songs
Driftwood, never better and someone was quite pleased with himself, I saw enthusiasm.
IJAS bouncy
NIWS meaningful, but I did not need a cigarette afterwards
H&H extra twiddly guitar bits.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Thursday September 15
Somewhere in Halifax. The fog is thick, it looks a cold and murky day out there, and after a brief interlude of internet necessities, we pick ourselves up and off we go. And off comes the rain coat, then the scarf, then the sweater. Any more comes off and we get arrested, or frighten Rock stars, and believe me, I am good at that.
We go to see a broken window in St. Pauls Church. It was broken during the explosion, and each subsequent replacement has broken into the same profile of one of the early rectors. I had read about it in a novel, and needed to see this. We then climb the matterhorn. We take a short cut to avoid the stairs, and end up climbing the hill twice, and during said climb, with ragged breathing and high pitches wheezes of “I am fine” I get shot with a cannon, and jump down the hill. Twelve noon every day there is a ceremonial firing of the Citidel’s cannon. I was there at noon. Good thing I like artillery and loud noises. After that, a fife and drum unit, and bag pipes serenaded us to the summit. Found out we could have taken a taxi. We fight three tour buses filled with tourists to see the guard in his kilt. I am dragged away and pulled down hill, still clawing at the grass to see my kilted dream boat, but as I am old, foreign and dressed like a pirate, it was a good decision by people wiser than me to take me to a converted morgue for lunch. LOVE a morgue. The Five Fishermen is said to be the morgue for the Titanic victims, and the Explosion victims a few years later. Didn’t see any ghosts during lunch, disappointedly, but had a lovely local cider with my meal. We Then hit the mall, and I finally get the hair brush of my dreams.
Sweaty people everywhere the fog and humidity is so oppressive.
Sponging off the dirt of the day and toweling on the face of the night; we leave the car and walk back up the Alps. To the Venue. We have to go up stairs then down stairs to get to our seats, we are also stamped again. What is it this Tour that the venues insist on marking us? I think they are using special ink and are tracing our every move.
The Concert was politely well received. A youngish Baby boomer crowd, forties to sixties in age, with two lovely couples in the front romantically dancing to ILS and NIWS. Much better than the female duos dancing to TOSOL the past two nights. I had been beginning to think that there was another side to life in New England. There still may be, but no one was investigating it in Halifax.
Stand out songs
TDWMA Scorching achingly beautiful guitar solo
ILS bit of a mistake at the start that no one noticed
NIWS All the notes were sung proper and the high ones were hit on the first try.
Driftwood, one good crack.
Somewhere in Halifax. The fog is thick, it looks a cold and murky day out there, and after a brief interlude of internet necessities, we pick ourselves up and off we go. And off comes the rain coat, then the scarf, then the sweater. Any more comes off and we get arrested, or frighten Rock stars, and believe me, I am good at that.
We go to see a broken window in St. Pauls Church. It was broken during the explosion, and each subsequent replacement has broken into the same profile of one of the early rectors. I had read about it in a novel, and needed to see this. We then climb the matterhorn. We take a short cut to avoid the stairs, and end up climbing the hill twice, and during said climb, with ragged breathing and high pitches wheezes of “I am fine” I get shot with a cannon, and jump down the hill. Twelve noon every day there is a ceremonial firing of the Citidel’s cannon. I was there at noon. Good thing I like artillery and loud noises. After that, a fife and drum unit, and bag pipes serenaded us to the summit. Found out we could have taken a taxi. We fight three tour buses filled with tourists to see the guard in his kilt. I am dragged away and pulled down hill, still clawing at the grass to see my kilted dream boat, but as I am old, foreign and dressed like a pirate, it was a good decision by people wiser than me to take me to a converted morgue for lunch. LOVE a morgue. The Five Fishermen is said to be the morgue for the Titanic victims, and the Explosion victims a few years later. Didn’t see any ghosts during lunch, disappointedly, but had a lovely local cider with my meal. We Then hit the mall, and I finally get the hair brush of my dreams.
Sweaty people everywhere the fog and humidity is so oppressive.
Sponging off the dirt of the day and toweling on the face of the night; we leave the car and walk back up the Alps. To the Venue. We have to go up stairs then down stairs to get to our seats, we are also stamped again. What is it this Tour that the venues insist on marking us? I think they are using special ink and are tracing our every move.
The Concert was politely well received. A youngish Baby boomer crowd, forties to sixties in age, with two lovely couples in the front romantically dancing to ILS and NIWS. Much better than the female duos dancing to TOSOL the past two nights. I had been beginning to think that there was another side to life in New England. There still may be, but no one was investigating it in Halifax.
Stand out songs
TDWMA Scorching achingly beautiful guitar solo
ILS bit of a mistake at the start that no one noticed
NIWS All the notes were sung proper and the high ones were hit on the first try.
Driftwood, one good crack.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday September 14
The Lost day.
I wake up a few miles away from my vacationing cats, still unhappy with my two tour Brushes, and decide to never comb or brush my hair again, than to be disappointed. Crazy cat ladies are not to be crossed with. Even if we cross ourselves.
Woke up the hotel staff in order to not let them pack and load the car, and off we go in search of the first ray of sun to touch the united States each morning. We miss the first one, but caught the fifteenth thru twenty second rays of morning sun, and continued further North and East than anyone in their right minds should go.
If you drive long enough in Maine you start to figure out why they call it the Pine Tree State. We saw a couple of trees. Eventually we needed to stop and feed the dogs, they were tired of pulling the dog sled without any snow. We stopped in Bangor, (I hardly knew her) Maine and I had the best Hash ever. It was no Texas Cream corn but it was close. Opted out of the hair cuts offered during breakfast, but I did notice some people’s hair looked better that they had a few days ago, hmmmm. The rest stop is near the airport, does one fly to Bangor for hash and a haircut? I might someday, that was great hash. And we drove and drove and drove, and saw another pine tree, and a hemlock, and a spruce and a maple and an oak tree. And we went thru towns that had no name. Finally we reached the border, and the most remote location for a Walmart ever, right near the border crossing.
Love the questions we were asked. Thank goodness I left the weaponry at home with the missing hair brush and safety pins, or else who knows what would have happened.
We quickly pick up the lingo, and start reading the road signs in Canadian, and wonder where all the people have gone. They must have gone south to Walmart.
So many signs for Moncton, I just might end up there some day, but today we go to Nova Scotia. New England was named in English, Why is Nova Scotia latin? Are they better than us? The answer is yes. Lovely rolling hills, green corn fields, happy cows and boats. All I need is a man in a kilt and my life is complete.
My wish was granted, there are plaid people everywhere. Turns out they are tour guides, but doubt they can tell me what I want to know.
I find a pub, with real fish and chips, and guiness, I drank so much I forgot to unhitch the dogs from the dog sled, but that is what I have my minions for.
My money is no good here, so I have to go get some that is, and the face on the bills is familiar, I think she was at a recent televised wedding.
There are a lot of people visiting here, with luggage. Mine still smells like clean laundry, I suppose it will start to smell different soon.
And so far, no igloos or ice bergs.
The Lost day.
I wake up a few miles away from my vacationing cats, still unhappy with my two tour Brushes, and decide to never comb or brush my hair again, than to be disappointed. Crazy cat ladies are not to be crossed with. Even if we cross ourselves.
Woke up the hotel staff in order to not let them pack and load the car, and off we go in search of the first ray of sun to touch the united States each morning. We miss the first one, but caught the fifteenth thru twenty second rays of morning sun, and continued further North and East than anyone in their right minds should go.
If you drive long enough in Maine you start to figure out why they call it the Pine Tree State. We saw a couple of trees. Eventually we needed to stop and feed the dogs, they were tired of pulling the dog sled without any snow. We stopped in Bangor, (I hardly knew her) Maine and I had the best Hash ever. It was no Texas Cream corn but it was close. Opted out of the hair cuts offered during breakfast, but I did notice some people’s hair looked better that they had a few days ago, hmmmm. The rest stop is near the airport, does one fly to Bangor for hash and a haircut? I might someday, that was great hash. And we drove and drove and drove, and saw another pine tree, and a hemlock, and a spruce and a maple and an oak tree. And we went thru towns that had no name. Finally we reached the border, and the most remote location for a Walmart ever, right near the border crossing.
Love the questions we were asked. Thank goodness I left the weaponry at home with the missing hair brush and safety pins, or else who knows what would have happened.
We quickly pick up the lingo, and start reading the road signs in Canadian, and wonder where all the people have gone. They must have gone south to Walmart.
So many signs for Moncton, I just might end up there some day, but today we go to Nova Scotia. New England was named in English, Why is Nova Scotia latin? Are they better than us? The answer is yes. Lovely rolling hills, green corn fields, happy cows and boats. All I need is a man in a kilt and my life is complete.
My wish was granted, there are plaid people everywhere. Turns out they are tour guides, but doubt they can tell me what I want to know.
I find a pub, with real fish and chips, and guiness, I drank so much I forgot to unhitch the dogs from the dog sled, but that is what I have my minions for.
My money is no good here, so I have to go get some that is, and the face on the bills is familiar, I think she was at a recent televised wedding.
There are a lot of people visiting here, with luggage. Mine still smells like clean laundry, I suppose it will start to smell different soon.
And so far, no igloos or ice bergs.
Tuesday September 13
Woke up in New Hampshire. As a New Englander, I had to fix that situation soon. Had a hankering for local cuisine, and was chauffeured across the state to the Maine Diner for some blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup. How any restaurant in New England can serve artificial maple flavored table syrup is beyond me, but I was told that there are people who find the natural product overpowering. As an overpowering force myself, I understood. I disagree though. Never can be too overwhelming.
We drive past where my cats have chosen to take their holiday, an onwards to the cobbled and uneven streets of Old Port Portland ME. A fabulous and under rated water front traditional new England town. There was a cruise ship in town, and other exciting events planned for the evening, or so I heard. After an unsatisfying brush to the hair with the unsatisfying brush of the Tour, I set out for an adventure, bringing along my Team for support, three medics and an accountant, as one might get ill or need tabulating. We settle for fresh local produce simmered, sautéed and steamed to perfection, and once again caloric content was negated by the walk. Local mussels in white wine with pine nuts, fresh basils and tomatoes.
Off to have fairy tales told to me by professional vocalists. Complete with facial expressions and hand gestures. Who knew there was so much talent around, like people I hadn’t seen for a few months, vaguely resembling someone I had run into the night before. Then I got close up and personal with inanimate objects. No official receiving line this night for me, all that attention the night before wore me out, I am humble, and shy.
Again, I signal for the house lights to come down, and I conduct the show, secretly and silently making requests for a certain beloved or obscure classic to be played, and getting my wish, song after song, unwaveringly accurate. How do those nice gentlemen and ladies know what I want to hear? Like I might have been caught humming the tunes in public? Or they know my tastes? Spooky.
I actually knew this stage full of folks tonight, and they seemed to know each other, and got along fairly well. Looks improved quite a lot, too. Someone else must have found a better hair brush, I must try to run into them later and ask their secret. Also what rejuvenization methods they use, as they looked less worried by time tonight. Or it was the lights.
Merrill auditorium in Portland City Hall is a lovely older theatre intimate seating and nice sound. A few less of the usual and customary faces in their usual and customary seats, and doing the usual and customary rituals including illuminated synchronized hand dancing, with the added bonus of a flautist reproducing eighties synth solos. Much nicer than the original recording which I never took too, much. To be honest.
No yodeling, a few extra guitar chords but done correctly during the correct songs, and only a few missed words in the lyrics, but no one noticed.
Stand out Songs
Gypsy because it is played only for me
Peak Hour for the same reason
IKOTS because some stared intently at my daughter for enough few brief seconds to “creep her out”
And RMSS because someone else checked her out.
And question because I was smiled at in a warm and personal way.
After My show, we stumbled around the uneven brick sidewalks whick I find charming when in flats, and ended up looking for some place we could not find?
Tried Three Dollar Dewey’s but they were closed.
(one dollar looky, two dolar touchy)
Needed sleep, had to load up the dog sled to find Canada in the Morning.
Woke up in New Hampshire. As a New Englander, I had to fix that situation soon. Had a hankering for local cuisine, and was chauffeured across the state to the Maine Diner for some blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup. How any restaurant in New England can serve artificial maple flavored table syrup is beyond me, but I was told that there are people who find the natural product overpowering. As an overpowering force myself, I understood. I disagree though. Never can be too overwhelming.
We drive past where my cats have chosen to take their holiday, an onwards to the cobbled and uneven streets of Old Port Portland ME. A fabulous and under rated water front traditional new England town. There was a cruise ship in town, and other exciting events planned for the evening, or so I heard. After an unsatisfying brush to the hair with the unsatisfying brush of the Tour, I set out for an adventure, bringing along my Team for support, three medics and an accountant, as one might get ill or need tabulating. We settle for fresh local produce simmered, sautéed and steamed to perfection, and once again caloric content was negated by the walk. Local mussels in white wine with pine nuts, fresh basils and tomatoes.
Off to have fairy tales told to me by professional vocalists. Complete with facial expressions and hand gestures. Who knew there was so much talent around, like people I hadn’t seen for a few months, vaguely resembling someone I had run into the night before. Then I got close up and personal with inanimate objects. No official receiving line this night for me, all that attention the night before wore me out, I am humble, and shy.
Again, I signal for the house lights to come down, and I conduct the show, secretly and silently making requests for a certain beloved or obscure classic to be played, and getting my wish, song after song, unwaveringly accurate. How do those nice gentlemen and ladies know what I want to hear? Like I might have been caught humming the tunes in public? Or they know my tastes? Spooky.
I actually knew this stage full of folks tonight, and they seemed to know each other, and got along fairly well. Looks improved quite a lot, too. Someone else must have found a better hair brush, I must try to run into them later and ask their secret. Also what rejuvenization methods they use, as they looked less worried by time tonight. Or it was the lights.
Merrill auditorium in Portland City Hall is a lovely older theatre intimate seating and nice sound. A few less of the usual and customary faces in their usual and customary seats, and doing the usual and customary rituals including illuminated synchronized hand dancing, with the added bonus of a flautist reproducing eighties synth solos. Much nicer than the original recording which I never took too, much. To be honest.
No yodeling, a few extra guitar chords but done correctly during the correct songs, and only a few missed words in the lyrics, but no one noticed.
Stand out Songs
Gypsy because it is played only for me
Peak Hour for the same reason
IKOTS because some stared intently at my daughter for enough few brief seconds to “creep her out”
And RMSS because someone else checked her out.
And question because I was smiled at in a warm and personal way.
After My show, we stumbled around the uneven brick sidewalks whick I find charming when in flats, and ended up looking for some place we could not find?
Tried Three Dollar Dewey’s but they were closed.
(one dollar looky, two dolar touchy)
Needed sleep, had to load up the dog sled to find Canada in the Morning.
Monday Sept 12, 2011
I wake up much too early for having a day off work. Things to do, places to go. Last minute packing, sorting and decision making, must be able to live with the choices I make now for the next two weeks, no going back for forgotten items, and no money to purchase new.
I pack everything except safety pins and a hair brush. Not a deliberate choice. I drove my car to the place it will rest this Tour. I started to think about the unknown future, wondering what exciting events and experiences I will be fondly remembering on the drive home, or will I be exclaiming “ I can not believe I did that”?
We start off by driving the local roads. It has been a long time since I was the local one hosting the Invasion. Every plane I saw go overhead, I wondered if I knew anyone in it, would everyone arrive safely? Who will get lost on our roads? How will people try to pronounce the local places? What exotic food items will they try?
I sampled the exotic foods and had fried Lobster. Dipped in butter. Completely calorie and cholesterol free.
Checking into the hotel, I realize I once again forgot my hairbrush, as I always seem to do. A brief walk around towm and I have once again not been able to find one I like; unhappy hair for the next two weeks.
Dressed, coiffed, and painted, I strut to the venue, only to be left standing in the sun for two hours before they finally realized who I was, and I was let into the green room, and then had two gentlemen brought to me so that they could meet me. Other people may remember the event differently, but we all have our illusions, and delusions, and in the end, that is what keeps us going.
A hockey rink in New Hampshire at the end of Summer. No ice yet, very hot and humid inside, especially for those of us under the bright lights. I received the greetings and well wishes of all my friends, fans and frenemies. Thank you for your kind words, too many to thank personally, and then I signaled for the show to begin. Because I DO control the universe. Don’t let the others fool you, it is all about me.
Iised my special psychic abilities to communicate what song I wanted to hear next, but the signals crossed somehow, and a few times, there were sour notes sung and harsh chords played, as the Talented Ones tried to pull themselves together. Glue should have been used, not very cohesive, but I love watching them adjust back to the well known and familiar comforting soothing strains of beloved classics. When some of them played at all. Extra notes at times, not enough at others. I counted.
Stand out songs
Lean on Me Never enjoyed it more and probably never will again
Gypsy Everyone showed up for that one
NIWS with the occasional spoken words
Left the show, hot and greasy, as if I had been dipped in mineral oil, and tried to sleep a wee bit before the next adventure.
I wake up much too early for having a day off work. Things to do, places to go. Last minute packing, sorting and decision making, must be able to live with the choices I make now for the next two weeks, no going back for forgotten items, and no money to purchase new.
I pack everything except safety pins and a hair brush. Not a deliberate choice. I drove my car to the place it will rest this Tour. I started to think about the unknown future, wondering what exciting events and experiences I will be fondly remembering on the drive home, or will I be exclaiming “ I can not believe I did that”?
We start off by driving the local roads. It has been a long time since I was the local one hosting the Invasion. Every plane I saw go overhead, I wondered if I knew anyone in it, would everyone arrive safely? Who will get lost on our roads? How will people try to pronounce the local places? What exotic food items will they try?
I sampled the exotic foods and had fried Lobster. Dipped in butter. Completely calorie and cholesterol free.
Checking into the hotel, I realize I once again forgot my hairbrush, as I always seem to do. A brief walk around towm and I have once again not been able to find one I like; unhappy hair for the next two weeks.
Dressed, coiffed, and painted, I strut to the venue, only to be left standing in the sun for two hours before they finally realized who I was, and I was let into the green room, and then had two gentlemen brought to me so that they could meet me. Other people may remember the event differently, but we all have our illusions, and delusions, and in the end, that is what keeps us going.
A hockey rink in New Hampshire at the end of Summer. No ice yet, very hot and humid inside, especially for those of us under the bright lights. I received the greetings and well wishes of all my friends, fans and frenemies. Thank you for your kind words, too many to thank personally, and then I signaled for the show to begin. Because I DO control the universe. Don’t let the others fool you, it is all about me.
Iised my special psychic abilities to communicate what song I wanted to hear next, but the signals crossed somehow, and a few times, there were sour notes sung and harsh chords played, as the Talented Ones tried to pull themselves together. Glue should have been used, not very cohesive, but I love watching them adjust back to the well known and familiar comforting soothing strains of beloved classics. When some of them played at all. Extra notes at times, not enough at others. I counted.
Stand out songs
Lean on Me Never enjoyed it more and probably never will again
Gypsy Everyone showed up for that one
NIWS with the occasional spoken words
Left the show, hot and greasy, as if I had been dipped in mineral oil, and tried to sleep a wee bit before the next adventure.
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