It came to my attention last night that there are times in your life when no matter how creaky and banged up you feel a killer beat will come on and you are going to have to dance. Playing marionette to my beat-up self on June 9th was The Crystal Method, the shadowbox was The Pageant and the result was me collapsing in a sweaty heap on the living room floor at midnight after popping open my recent nasty fighting meds and gulping them down a throat that yelled way too loud. But, like any person who has an unhealthy love of music, I loved every collapsing second of it.
Let me start by saying I never, I mean sadly never, really win anything. Exception being a blue ribbon in a nerdy science fair, or another assorted pocket-protector-like contest. Seriously. So winning free tickets to The Pageant to dance my bottom off to some trippy-electronica (and knowing enough not to call it ‘techno’) isn’t something exactly expected from or for me – evah. However… it totally happened, and I went, and I rocked it even though I have been fighting a dibilitating smidgen of nasty that started Friday. To imagine what a feat this is, dear readers, let me explain: if you were a fly on the wall in my house you probably would have thought I was on my death-bed these past few days (and I am here to tell you I was convinced of the same). However, this death warmed over nasty wasn’t about to stand between me and the winnings… my pot of gold if you will. Either the beer or The Crystal Method cures all ails, ’cause I danced like I had nothing to do but ditch Freshman Psych the next day. Here is a short (like über short, 9 second clip) that I took of the show last night when I accidentally had it on video instead of camera mode (I am probably going to get in all kinds of trouble for posting this, but I can’t find the ticket to see if no cameras were allowed, and if I can beat the nasty I can be an online rebel for a minute, right?)… Continue reading