CATCHING UP:

The week has flown by.

Don't feel obligated to read this, but keep in mind that it's fairly difficult to look at a word without reading it if you know how to read. Just try.

For starters:

MY BLOODY VALENTINE, 9/22/08, Roseland Ballroom

Michelle had a lot of trouble getting excited for the MBV show simply because the idea of seeing them live was surreal; we were unable to picture it.  Joe said that it was strange because we had no idea what to expect, even for the little things that seem to be a given for other bands...would they play an encore? etc.  Once we entered the venue, the reality hit us: we were going to see My Bloody Valentine live! Kevin Shields would be on this stage! (Roseland Ballroom is very cool, by the way, old, about three times the size of the Trocadero, with a tall ceiling and open atmosphere.)  We also got a hint by the signs that said "My Bloody Valentine suggest wearing earplugs" and the packets and packets of earplugs laying around for people to take.  (Of course I didn't wear them! How could I? I needed 100% purity.)  

The worst part of the show was waiting and waiting...waiting for the first band to go on, waiting for them to end, waiting for the second band to go on, YEARNING for them to end, and finally waiting for the main attraction. It was all so draining.  J Mascis of Dinosaur Jr. came on to jam with the Wounded Knees, which seems like a cool concept, but I'm not into dragged out psychadelic jammmmz, and really was not too fond of the Wounded Knees and their sloppy flutist.  Le Volume Corbe was fairly adorable, so that was alright.

But blah blah blah blah - MY BLOODY VALENTINE!!  Their setup included a solid WALL of large, stacked amplifiers, along with standard string of amps on the sides of the stage.  When they walked onstage, the crowd exploded.  When the sound started, my heart exploded.  The sound was so enveloping, so full and dimensional. I felt a bit like a sponge, the underwater kind, porifera, with the music swirling around me, pushing into me, pushing out of me; I was the music, the music was me.  It was difficult to manage, and actually ended up being physically taxing.  When I walked out of the venue, my head was a mess, my ears were ringing, and I was stumbling around.  What a rebirth!  I can only imagine I looked like a foal standing on its legs for the first time.  My hearing was definitely temporarily impaired. Even at school the next morning, everyone sounded slightly quieter than usual.  Enough about me.  Michelle was right when she remarked that Kevin Shields is a genius in the truest sense, not just "duuude he's so good at music, what a musical genius."  The band was, for the most part, so stoic and still, a harsh contrast to the blasting music.  Debbie stood on the stage like an angel. The only part of her that moved was her eyes. They were large and seemed to flutter around the room.  I was fairly pleased with the setlist, although the vocals, which are usually more prominent on Isn't Anything and some of the EPs sort of faded into the music, a la loveless.  I was afraid it would be exceedingly loveless heavy, but it wasn't too bad.  I would have replaced a couple of songs if I were making up the setlist, but I can't complain.  According to my poor mother who had to drive us and sat in the back, You Made Me Realise was quite the 'test of endurance'...they played a block of 20 minute deafening noise, which I've seen referred to online as 'the holocaust chord.'  I'm sure many people in the audience were pretty ticked, confused, and annoyed, but I loved it.  There's no way I could compare this show to any other show I've seen...except that it was easily three times louder than anything else.

Here's the setlist that I jacked from Michelle:

I Only Said

When You Sleep

You Never Should

When you Wake

Cigarette In Your Bed

Come In Alone

Only Shallow

Thorn

Nothing Much to Lose

To Here Knows When

Blown a Wish

Slow

Soon

Feed Me With Your Kiss

Sue is Fine

You Made Me Realise

wow.

Tuesday and Wednesday slipped through my fingers. I did a lot of school work.  The boy I loved finally got on his plane, which helps a little.  I do wish he would have dropped by to say goodbye, like I asked.  But I'm not that upset, nor should I be, as  I'm the one who should have broken a heart, not the one who should have had their heart broken.  It's possible that I am making progress.  Anyway, I ran 21:37 at the race on Wednesday, my personal record, but at the time I felt terribly about my performance because I was fatigued and in a negative mindset for the last mile or so.  I think I will easily break 21 minutes soon, hopefully before leagues.

On Thursday, I was invited to the Dodge Poetry Festival with the AP Lit kids, since I'm a bookworm and the 12th grade English teacher knows it.  I saw Sharon Olds, Chris Abani, Robin Robertson, Naomi Shihab Nye (for the second time in my life), and Patricia Smith (no, not Patti Smith).  It took place in an old village in central Jersey which was refreshing and natural...and oh so poetic.  Not to mention it was an excellent people-watching festival, too, mainly artsy-looking high school students but also many adults and ex-hippies.

I was most charmed by Robin Robertson, but partially due to his overwhelming Scottish-ness and 'appeals to the youth' - (talking about how he was born in Aberdeen, but not the Aberdeen where Kurt Cobain was born, and also boasting that he edited Trainspotting).  I think I may buy one of his books on Amazon. One thing that is sticking out in my mind right now was that he mentioned how much he loved sneaking over the Canadian border into America during his education to watch hockey games, one of the reasons being that he was astounded that it was one man's duty just to clean the blood off of the ice.

Patricia Smith was the greatest performer of the poets I saw.  She was a black woman who was clear, loud, funny, and personable, definitely a poet to be heard rather than read (an opinion she would most likely agree with).  

I didn't stay for all of Sharon Olds' set, but she was also humorous and genuine, and her poems were beautiful.

Chris Abani was another funny one - it's funny how funny poets are - "there are two types of nerds, skinny, geeky nerds and fat nerds. I was a fat nerd.' He had interesting stories to tell, seeing as he had been imprisoned in his home country of Nigeria for being a political dissident.

Naomi Shihab Nye? HAHAHA.  hahaha. She was cute, but I can't take her seriously with my middle school bias against her.

As for Friday, Justin visited me for a while and afterwards I ended up hanging out with some 'theater kids', people I don't usually see outside of school. They had me in giggles all night. It was a nice change.  Ah, I forgot to mention my parents disappeared and my grandparents took their place this weekend, yay!  Saturday was grey. There was an invitational but the varsity teams didn't race, instead we ran 10 minutes from a park to the high school, did six 1000s at threshold pace, three 300s which were threshold pace to a stride to a sprint, then ran back to the park. It was tough, I would rather have raced.  Now it's saturday night and teenagers are fickle so all of my hopeful plans have fallen through, and I'm too lazy to do anything productive. At least Boredom City, USA is much preferred to Stress City or Depression City...