Please let me say this before I continue with my “story” …
If you’ve been reading here long and/or you know me AT ALL, you know that I take Music very seriously. It’s as much a part of my life as eating and sleeping. It’s my drug, pretty much. When I’m sad or stressed or mad or lonely or lost or confused or anxious or if I’m happy and relaxing, there is a soundtrack soothing me or inspiring me. I’m a total junkie in that respect. And I can never get enough. I’ve been accused on more than one occasion of being a music snob. If a piece of music doesn’t move me in some respect, I discard it like a holey sock. There is just too much good stuff out there that I need to hear to waste my time listening to anything that doesn’t meet my criteria. Sometimes I think I spent too much of my life listening to Top Forties radio and I missed way too much and now I’ll never catch up.
Y’all know that I had a rough summer, working those long hours on too little sleep and watching my body rebel over and over again. I can honestly say that my music kept me going. Countless times I found myself popping those ear buds in and closing my eyes and letting words and melodies fill me up, pushing out the bad stuff.
It just so happened that during that time I stumbled upon the song Sometime Around Midnight by Airborne Toxic Event. I listened to that song over and over and over. By all rights, I should be sick to death of it. When it became ingrained in me, I began to need more of the same. Enter Wishing Well and Gasoline. And then Does This Mean You’re Moving On? It was right about this time that I found that the band was going to be in Pittsburgh and quickly made up my mind that NOTHING in this world was keeping me from being there. I was addicted and nothing was going to satisfy my jones except seeing them in person. I had to see for myself that there really existed a living, breathing band who could actually produce those sounds that my ears craved. Call it survival, call it medicine. Whatever. The music came to me when I needed it and it got me through. I’m grateful for that.
Ok, enough baring my soul for the entire universe for one day. Why do none of you even attempt to stop me before I publish every single, personal secret part of myself?. You won’t be happy until I’m nothing more than a spent, empty shell. Will you???!!! Parasites.
… So then, after Noah graciously signed my Spin, as if acting in a well-choreographed scene from a movie set, on cue, another figure miraculously emerged from the van. This; a tall, slender handsome vision in a black T-shirt proclaiming “Welcome back to your life.” (the shirt, not the dude…) Kind eyes, easy smile, excruciatingly long legs and a really nice mop of black, spiky hair. This would be Steven Chen, guitar and keyboard player. I had begun to feel like I was standing before a gourmet buffet and Noah was just the appetizer.
There was something about Steven that demanded respect but not the stuffy kind. His manner was warm and polite. When asked to pose for a picture, before I could blink he was at my side and I think you can tell by my expression that I was starting to wonder if I was imagining the whole scenario.
Steven neatly wrote Linda- Thanks so much for coming to the show! Steven in my Spin and I was a happy girl. (Incidentally, Noah wrote: Hell! YEA!!! NOAH) 🙂
Ok, that’s all for today. I promise to get to the actual show before you all get eyestrain and wind-blown from all this hot air. But boy howdy, I’m still smiling all over and tomorrow will be a week since this all went down. 😀