Aimee Mann Again

E was kind enough to invite me to see Aimee Mann as part of the Wall Street Rising free concert series this weekend.

E was even more kind and got there super early, thus securing us awesome seats.



This was the best Aimee show I've ever seen. She was very much on, very in tune with the audience, the performance was fabulous, the selection of songs perfect.



Now.

You may be noticing a couple of weird things about the first photo I posted in this entry.

Weird thing #1: Aimee Mann is looking a bit Whitney Houston-esque. You would be correct in thinking this. Aimee - not looking so hot. She's either got a drug problem (I don't think so - she seemed fine at the show), an illness, or issues with the consumption of food. I am worried. Whatever the cause, it didn't affect the awesomeness of the show.

Aimee Mann: Skeleton Style (she actually appeared much thinner than this in real life)


Weird thing #2: Johnny Damon plays lead guitar for Aimee Mann!!!!





Dear god he looked Just. Like. Him.

The whole evening was like a movie. Three hours prior to my leaving, I got the news about The Sandwich.

It was, of course, The Sandwich who got me into Aimee Mann in the first place. I'd listened to her intermittently, here and there, but hadn't really fell in love until The Sandwich put "Save Me" on one of the first mix CD's he made for me.

I was broken at the time, for different reasons than I am now, and that is how and why The Sandwich was able to have such an effect.

The lyrics:

You look like... a perfect fit,
For a girl in need... of a tourniquet.
But can you save me?
Come on and save me...
If you could save me,
From the ranks of the freaks,
Who suspect they could never love anyone.

'Cause I can tell... you know what it's like.
A long farewell... of the hunger strike.
But can you save me?
Come on and save me...
If you could save me,
From the ranks of the freaks,
Who suspect they could never love anyone.

You struck me dumb, Like radium
Like Peter Pan, or Superman,
You have come... to save me.
Come on and save me...
If you could save me,
From the ranks of the freaks,
Who suspect they could never love anyone,
Except the freaks,
Who suspect they could never love anyone,
But the freaks,
Who suspect they could never love anyone.

I've seen Aimee a number of times, and never had I heard her play "Save Me." I've heard her do "Voices Carry," but never "Save Me." I figured there was no chance of her doing it, but I was wrong.

In my own personal episode of 90210, during which my friend E and I attend an Aimee Aimee show at the Peach Pit and are struck by her thinness (maybe its the Very Special Anorexia Episode?), I would cry to myself while singing along with "Save Me." There would be a montage of episodes past, highlighting moments such as when The Sandwich and I met, the first time we talked all night and I told him why I was broken and how I cried because I hadn't told anyone else before, the time when The Sandwich said "Don't ever let me break you... physically or otherwise..." one night before anything had ever happened between us as he accidentally tumbled on me (I swear it was an accident) in my bed after listening to music until 4 am on a school night, his hands in my ass pockets under the blanket as the sun rose, The First Kiss, The First BreakUp, The 9/11 Mistake, his flying home early to see me and my meeting him at the airport, the pool on the roof in Miami, my hand making contact with his face and his saying "You should really do that more often... I deserve so much worse," scenes of the hardest laughter and heaviest tears imagineable, his showing up at my apartment at 6:00 am before I left for St. Louis and my seeing him for the last time when neither of us knew it was the last time, some more sweet scenes to make it easier on the audience but which to pick? There were as many sweet moments as there were scathing ones. For every time I said "This isn't fucking fair! FIGURE YOUR SHIT OUT AND DO SOMETHING!" I said "I can't imagine life without you. It's all worth it, I know it is." For every time he cried there were a million times when he said something funny, funniest, for me and only for me. There would be scenes of this world we created that consisted only of the two of us and had nothing to do with the rest of the world. The real world. If we'd let the real world in, we wouldn't have lasted more than one night.

Two escapists = disaster. We always talked about running away. He talked about it more than I did, but he was more of a wimp than I was.

I guess I really did run away. After all was said and done, I ran away from it all.

Crazy.

I should have done it sooner.

Although, in his own way, he was running away by being with me in the first place.

So yeah. Aimee Mann. Devastating but cathartic.

And with that, have yourselves Happy Thanksgivings.

Little Lab!

I am so behind.

I've been distracted by work and biological clocks and groceries.

I can't decide what's worse - travelling or grocery shopping the day before Thanksgiving.

I digress...

Last week I went to some gallery openings with R in pursuit of free drinks and good art. Our evening was cut short by my emotions, only after I ran into Joe Pesci without even noticing.

Prior to my anxiety getting the best of me, we passed this window on 10th Avenue. It's a display space for some gallery and there is always something bizarre within.

R and I were thrilled by that night's window! It was... a lab!



I wish I knew who did this, or why. I wish I'd been more focused on things other than stupid boys and could have processed what the point of this was! And taken better photos!

I could do neither, but it's wicked awesome anyway.



A dissection of some sort. Little beakers. The artist's face on the dolls?

Dunno.

But still... awesome.

Real Date

I got out of work early yesterday. This was due to my getting into work obscenely early in order to perform the function of "Hair Model."

A student from the salon downstairs had been looking for "models" on the street last week. A coworker spread the word, and a bunch of us made appointments for $20 in the salon I normally go to. I know. It's awkward. Not only did I run into my former hairdresser after having gotten a haircut in Argentina, but yesterday I ran into her at her own salon while getting my hair cut by someone else. Caught in the act! It's her fault, though. She charges $80 now.

The best thing about this was that my hairdresser kept referring to me as "a model."

The worst thing was that the haircut took two hours. My hairdresser was very insecure, which I guess is a good thing, and kept checking with the master hairdresser before making a move. My hair looks amazing and may be the best haircut I've ever gotten. It actually stays flat. It's quite miraculous. Everyone at the salon was very impressed.

When I returned to work from my haircut, I called D and said "You have to come see my hair!" When he arrived, I said "We should go on a date because I have such good hair!"

I got out early, which meant we had a ton of time to have a good date.

It was such a good date!

We started off with shopping in SoHo. We looked for new eyeglasses for D and took photos of the top contenders. We then looked at coats for D, after which I bought an argyle scarf (which I'd been looking for for the entirety of last winter) and gloves. Yes, gloves. I may have given up on mittens. At least for the time being. I had to cave in because its 25 degrees right now and my hands were cold. I am, however, now better at being a girl because my scarf and gloves match one another, and both look good with my coat.

After more shopping we ended up at a cute new restaurant in Nolita. We ordered apple martinis but they couldn't make them. They recommended, instead, applie pie caramel martinis that came with caramel lining the rim. Yes! We split garlic mashed potatoes and crispy macaroni and cheese rolls. That's right - crispy macaroni and cheese rolls with a smoked gouda sauce.

We then headed off in pursuit of other date-like activities. D was in the mood for happy hour, and bolted into this bar the minute he saw "$5 Raspberry Cosmos!" on a chalkboard outside its door. It was a dive - dark, barren, and marvelous. "I really want to play pool!" D said. "OK, but I suck. Hard," I said. "Me too," said D. We then embarked on what I thought would be the longest game of pool of all time.

D thought I'd lied because I got three balls in right away. I guess I was at that perfect level of intoxication during which your focus is at a maximum and your anxiety is at a minimum. I am good at pool for about 15 minutes when this happens. Otherwise my playing pool is a hilarious disaster.

D definitely lied, as he is very good at pool.

The game only lasted about 5 minutes. It would have been even shorter had I not gotten the white one in four times.

We split two raspberry cosmos and then headed back out into the cold.

We decided to walk towards D's house in pursuit of a meal since he was not wearing a coat (why do boys do this?) and it was about 20 degrees out. We figured if we didn't find anything acceptable to eat, we'd at least be close to home and the potential of food there.

We ended up at a new comedy club on Bleeker. They wooed us in with the promise of free comedy, but told us, when we sat down right in front of the stage, that there was a two drink or two food minimum purchase per person.

Fine, we thought, since we were hungry. I didn't want to drink, but figured D would want a couple more.

Of course it ended up being a two drink minimum per person, food not mattering, so we ended up paying for two drinks that we didn't even order. Assholes. And the drinks that we did have were disgusting.

The show itself was much better than I'd expected. There was a lot of audience interaction, which made it imtimate. You know the sort of thing where the comedian onstage asks people questions about themselves, and then all of the remaining comics make fun of them for the remainder of the evening.

D and I got pegged as the "happy couple" when the first comic asked D how long we'd been together. D said, enthusiastically, "11 months and 7 days" and all of the women in the room said "Awww......"

D = very cute last night.

When asked if he loved me, he declared "FUCK YEAH!"

Awesome date, folks. We never do stuff like this. We never take the time to just run around our city and find things to do. We're always pressed for time, feeling obligated to do things, checking things off the list.

Last night was the most fun I've had in a long time.

And with that, I bid you all the happiest of Thanksgivings.

And do not fret - My Mundane Life In Song will return next Monday.

Word.

Some People Should Not Be Allowed To Be Happy

Atop this list?

Ex-es.

Especially evil ex-es who pretty much ruined you for eternity.

And they should not be happy with people who know of and directly experienced the ruin.

There's something especially disturbing about an ex being happy with someone you know. It's almost as though you suffered and therefore paved the way for this person to be happy. You suffered the chaos, the judgment, the emotional turbulence, the bullshit, the pain, the therapy, the anger, the sadness, the insecurity, the not feeling good enough, only in order for that person to bypass it entirely and then to be happy.

It's not fair.

It's not fair that they get to be happy.

It is especially unfair that he gets to feel secure and that there's someone out there who loves him and thinks he's enough, someone who's willing to follow him and put up with his issues.

I don't have that.

It's funny. I'm not jealous of her. Yes, I wish things had turned out differently but I know now that it was for the best. I'm not jealous of her. I'm jealous of him, that he gets to be over it and found someone that loves him that way and that much. I'm so jealous that he's moving on, that he's made decisions, that he's confident and secure. He and I - we are 2/3 of the people who went through that mess and I bet 2/3 of us came out fine on the other end. I just expected it to be a different 2/3. He wasn't supposed to be part of it. He is supposed to be ruined because he ruined everything for all of us.

I'm feeling distressed these days over the concept of time. I feel time passing. I spent a good part of my life waiting for him. Waiting for him to grow up, to make difficult decisions, to tell me what was going on. I was powerless. I let time pass, I let opportunities with other men pass, I let my life pass me by because of hope and a false sense of security.

I am jealous that he's not waiting anymore.

I, however, am. I am still waiting on a man, a different man now, to make up his mind, and I can't stand it. I hate that we, as women, have to wait for a man to commit. I hate living the cliche. I hate putting everything on hold so as not to scare someone away. I hate playing the game. I hate being dishonest. I hate pretending that everything is cool when I want to demand that he tell me that everything is going to be ok.

I was feeling a bit messy yesterday and called D to ask if I could spend the night with him. I've never done that before. I've never asked. He asked me if something was wrong and I just broke down and cried, not because of jealousy, but because this feeling of waiting reminds me of old things that are very painful. I was cryptic and finally admitted that I'd received some disturbing information about The Sandwich. I wanted to say "I want to be enough for you. I wasn't enough for him even though he told me I was. I want you to think that I am enough, I want you to have faith in me, I want you to have faith in us, I want you to think that this is worth it." I said, instead, that I was sad and that it was bringing up old feelings and that I was distressed that The Sandwich's life was working out for him.

D said "Well, that's normal."

I said incoherent things and D listened. He often asks me what I need at times like this. I usually say "I just need you to listen and not be dismissive." But last night I needed affirmation. I needed a hug. I needed him to say "It's going to be ok. You have me. I'm here for you."

I thought of RR and her Boyfriend Cue Cards, and I said "Maybe this would be a good time for you to say 'Don't worry, you have a boyfriend who loves you very much.'" I had about 43 other cue cards ready, but didn't use them, because what's the point?

He said it, and then said "Well, what do you want me to do? Should I distract you? Should we talk about it? What should I say?"

He tries so hard, and I appreciate it, but the ability to comfort people is something you know how to do or don't know how to do. I don't have a protocol for this. I guess its an innate technique. The Sandwich knew. No matter how bad things got, I always felt comforted. Last night I missed him, because he would have known what to say.

I think I may write a song. Woo hoo!

That is all.

Happy Monday to you all.