in the sub shop after the concert

Joanna Newsom show was beautiful but Ryan needs to learn to turn down, and violin player needs to sing closer to mic! I always wish the harp were louder. But such many massive feelings, so so hard to contain in a theatre seat, so aware of all these bodies around me. This music makes me want to dance, in fact to choreograph. To share these feelings somehow, though I admit I'm disappointed to know how much of this sound is keyboard produced - what I thought was xylophone is just synthetic. Even still how I crave it and these feelings. I want to wonder what her life is like, how she sings so knowingly about life + death + all the everything. What happens there? How do we all achieve it? And if ti's true that those no longer in their bodies can feel this, can be here, how can I best be, how can I explain that I know, understand, want to hold space for the ones no longer living? This music makes me remember everyone, from Brittany to my sister to Tom. How badly I want him to hear "Peach Plum Pear" again but really hear it. Can you feel that? What do you have for hunger?

Here in this fluorescence, this street side Italian restaurant, the music is booming and miserable, tehre's no escape. Who thought of this terrible plan? How do they make the dream escape so quickly, so easily? We knew just what we wanted only moments before, just before "reality" set in. This is how you wait for a panini: with your death, by holding your life hostage.

Sam asked me two minutes before the show started what I wanted to hear most of all, and I could've said a thousand things, but I answered "Sawdust + Diamonds." I didn't expect to hear it, but she played it as an encore, the only song. It was so urgent, it was almost rushed. Sam said she saw ehr motioned offstage right at the end, the harsh reality, the lights alive before we found our feet.

And I find myself at the pizza place with, it seems the most obnoxious person at the show, the one who kept yelling garbage after every song, fucking shut up and go the fuck home!!! If only I could be so good. If only I knew how to not drink three cups of wine at the show, to not bum smokes from every eligible hipster. If only I knew how to make myself beautiful enough to sell.