I’m a lucky girl; I got to go see Amanda Palmer Wednesday night. I saw some old friends (and some ex-friends). Neil Gaiman was there and sang a song with Amanda. I was a giddy fan-girl. Yes, I’m old and stuff now, but come on: one of my favorite musicians up on stage with one of my favorite authors, who happens to be her husband? Makes a girl happy.
The show was great, and as per usual when I see amazing artistry, it woke up that little part of me that used to love to do theater, used to love to sing, used to love to dress up. I wasn’t very dressed up (it was after work on a Wednesday = I’m old) but I sang along with almost every song (including the hilarious versions of Don’t Stop Believing and Total Eclipse of the Heart, as performed by Ronald Reagan, Boston’s #1 80s Pop Saxophone Duo) and I held Amanda’s booted right foot as she crowdsurfed right over us (I didn’t plan this, honest, she just came our way) and I watched my ex-friend be happy with his wife and I was glad for them. And I was glad for me. I didn’t get to go to any music shows when I was a teenager; my very first concert was at age 21 or something like that (I saw David Bowie and Nine Inch Nails), so when I get to go see someone I really like, I feel like I’m 15 again, living that dream. There was a kid dancing next to me at the AFP show. He must have been maybe all of 16, possibly younger. He was out of his mind with joy. He was pogo-ing to every danceable song, singing his heart out (although he was clueless during the 80s songs… oy = old), obviously having an out-of-body experience. I loved watching him. He looked transported. He was so happy. I was so happy.
It was a good night.
Other things are good. I try not to get sucked into the dark places that open up unexpectedly around all of us every day. The desperately sad email that threatens to shatter me. The bitter taste of terrible years. I dip my toes in the dark pool, taste the acridness and pull back — the light is so much better.
It’s good to be able to stay up way too late in order to experience something wonderful.
It’s good to have enough money to have sushi beforehand and not worry about it too much.
It’s good to have lots of books, and an adorable cat, and friends and loved ones.
It’s good to have a job, with kind people and a very good friend to work with.
It’s good to have a family that loves me, and comes to visit me, and now I can have them come visit whenever I like.
I planted a winter garden with too much cauliflower. I’m afraid I’m going to end up with 12 heads of cauliflower all at once. I don’t have enough freezer space for all that. Oh well.
I found the giant hornworm that’s been eating my tomatoes. He was huge and fat and completely disgusting and I screamed the whole time I tried to pry him off the tomato vine. I flung him into the neighbor’s yard (sorry, neighbors) and shuddered for a half-hour afterwards. Gross, gross, gross, gross.
My therapist keeps asking me what percentage of “good” I’m at. I’m at a pretty strong 90-95% good. Sometimes that 5-10% of “not-good” is pretty heavy, but we’ve all got our things that weigh us down, that remind us of when things were “not-good.” And then we are, if we’re lucky and smart, thankful for the current Very Good Indeed.