The dreams I dream, the song I sing for you

Some thoughts I had on seeing Foxy Shazam, The Sounds, and Bam Margera all in one place last night:

1. Foxy Shazam is, for all intents and purposes, a group of really drunk friends who got together and decided to play music while drunk, and it's possible that none of them are playing the same song, but it works as a soulful and irreverently entertaining spectacle. That's what it is. It's a spectacle. And I would gladly see them again. So if you find yourself in the unique situation where you're feeling blue and have an opportunity to see Foxy Shazam, see them and a smile will spread across your face. For days you will not be able to comprehend just what exactly you saw. There are no words for it.

2. Bam Margera is a rich asshole who dresses like a rich asshole. His wife is waif thin, and they're both so full of it despite the fact that Bam made his fortune by being an idiot on TV and not because he did anything relevant, noteworthy, or particularly skillful, and when you get down to it he's not different than any other douchebag in Southeastern PA except that he's a millionaire for no good reason and he drives a Mercedes. But I'll admit I was mildly star-struck; I got a small kick out of seeing a local "celebrity" from cable television.

3. Gay men LOVE the Sounds. According to my BFF, gay men love Swedish pop in general. There were lots of jazz hands and limp wrists. I'm not hating. I thought it was funny in a nice way. I mean, my dad is half gay, so...I'm practically gay myself. Anyway, I wouldn't have called myself a Sounds fan prior to this show; I went mostly because my best friend has been aching to see them for at least 2 years and I knew it was something special for her. But they put on a really fun, energetic show, and at times we felt like we were in a circa 1992 spaceship. Asymmetrical hair cuts, vests, curled lips. Look at the guitarist or keyboardist and you'll probably understand another reason why gay men love The Sounds. The singer is incredibly sassy and has nice legs, but spits a lot on stage. I'm probably a fan now.

All in all it was a good night that made me feel kind of happy despite my current situation with my dear boy. Essentially, I do dumb stuff and think nothing of it because it's all nothing to me; but he's something and he's something very special, and if the nothing hurts him then it's not nothing--it's something I have to fix. Sometimes I wish that, when you can't find the right words for a particular situation that you could crack open your heart and show someone the colors inside and it would be enough to make them want to take a chance and keep investing in you. Maybe someday I'll gather enough strength/courage to crack open my rib cage and incandescent light will shoot out everywhere.

My brother is moving today. I'm helping because, frankly, I have nothing else to do, and I'm looking forward to not finding ass hair on the toilet seat whenever I go into the bathroom. Seriously, I could knit a sweater.

And frankly, my heart is too anxious to do any serious work today anyway.