I have been home from my dad’s funeral for almost a week and am still a little numb. It feels like I am wrapped up in cotton padding, going through all the regular motions but having to put a little extra effort in to achieve the same outcome. I think this is probably good. I don’t want to bounce back. Crawling back feels like the appropriate speed for a loss this profound.
I have been on the receiving end of so many kind notes and gestures in the past weeks and I will do my best to thank everyone individually for your empathy and support. But here, in no particular order and with no particular selection parameters, are things have brought me comfort and much-needed distraction in the past days.
A book-length eulogy for the Thin White Duke, by my very favorite music writer. If you’re a Bowie fan, it’s a must read, and if you weren’t (WHAT?) you will be by the last page.
Losing You, by Solange
It’s from 2012 but I only just stumbled across this video, which is so beautiful, and the beats are so lush. I can’t stop playing it.
I had bought tix for Maria and me to see this show months ago. The National – the deepest-voiced indie band in rock – is one of my favorite bands but I’ve never seen them play live. Given the timing, I knew I wouldn’t be writing a review for the blog. I figured I was just going to sit back and let the music wash over me like the lump I am right now. And that was pretty much how the evening was going down last Friday – good show, amusing to see lead singer Matt Berninger down many drinks between verses and then pace the stage like The Worriedest Rock Star Ever. I talked a lot to Maria. I feel like I was probably one of those annoying concert talkers that I usually hate, but I just had some stuff to say.
BUT DRUNK MATT BERNINGER WAS NOT HAVING MY GRIEF-FUELED AMBIVALENCE.
So – and I swear to you this is true – toward the end of the show Matt jumps off the front of the stage and plunges into the audience, with two roadies scrambling behind him to feed slack into his long, long, mic cord.
Here’s a picture of the Greek I took at another show, so you can see how it’s laid out – a standing room floor, which was completely packed on Friday night, and then stone seats that slope steeply upward. Maria and I sat there in the stone seats, way out of the fray.
Except Drunk Matt WAS the fray. He put his head down like he was a rugby player and just plowed through the standing room crowd, farther than I’ve ever seen an artist wade into an audience, still singing, still pulling that mic cord behind him, and suddenly he angled right toward our section.
Then he hopped up to the walkway that separates the standing room from the seats, put his head down to knock fans out of the way, and just kept climbing skyward. Still singing. What is happening? Surely he’s not going to climb this far OH my god he is coming right at us.
HOW LONG IS THAT CORD ANYWAY?
He is stopping at our row! Of all the places in this entire theater he’s picked our row. He’s pivoting!
He is going to make me pay attention tonight. BECAUSE HE IS ABOUT TO FALL ON US.
I’ll stop here to explain that Maria is about as big as my pinkie finger and ever since we met in college, I have had a very “Me Tarzan You Jane” reflex when she’s threatened. And frankly, this whole scene reminded me of when you see the drunkest guy at a college frat party coming at you, forcing you to run an avoidance scramble.
So as Maria cowered and tried to get out of his way, I put both hands on Matt Berninger’s dramatically listing torso and hurled him to my right, to get him to fall on the next audience members, not us.
Then I turned to look at Maria, and Matt’s mic cord clotheslined me in the eyeballs.
Concerts can be so exciting!
My friend Muffy didn’t even know that I’d been eating the bags of chocolate covered pretzels from Trader Joe’s like they were individual snack sizes. She just showed up at my door with this. Which might not technically be an individual snack size, but I tried to make it so.
A visit from this dog
My neighbors with the baby came over to see Mr. Tanner here and they let me hold the baby on my lap while she petted the dog and then my heart melted into a puddle.
Returning daughters
One is home from her camp counselor summer and getting ready for college, and we are picking the other one up from her summer ballet intensive in a couple of days. Goodbye, clean counter tops and artificially low grocery bills and bathroom drains unclogged by long hair.
Hello, regular life. I’m glad you’re back. I promise I’ll catch up with you soon.
Comments
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