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And this is just one of the many reasons why I love St. John’s with all the love my little shrunken heart can muster.
I can’t think of a better night than one filled with tumbling acrobats, muscular fire-dancers, and Asian contortionists. Cirque du Soleil’s Allegria was like a sensory overload. The pastel colours of the set infused with the hues of the costumes, the chirping birds in the background, the incredible music, the taste of cotton candy…well the cotton candy came separately, but my gawd the whole experience made my toes curl.
Seriously though, can I get a date with a contortionist? A man that can fold himself in half? I could seriously find a use for that.
Jagerbomb was my lovely escort for the evening. We literally had chills the entire time. We both agreed that the ribbon lady with the hula-hoops was our favourite act…I think maybe the contortionists and the crazy swinging acrobats were more jaw-dropping, but there was just something about that ribbon lady. She commanded our attention so perfectly and she was the most beautiful, graceful woman I have ever seen, whereas some of the others were just downright creepy. Especially the wide-hipped monster thingies with the giant noses and dinosaur tails. Wow.
I am on such a life high right now. The whole time I was wishing that my family could witness the performance…Lil bro would be beside himself. I’m beside myself. I want to be a gymnast! A clown! A twirling acrobat! Hell I’d even be a props person if I could just travel with a crew like that. I wonder what they do off stage?
Well folks, I’ve found my true calling. I’m going to quit my career and become a friggen professional concert photographer. Aren’t these GEMS?!!!!!!
Well how about a really high quality video??!!!!!! Check out my FLICKR account!!!!!!!
I went to see Neil Young LIVE tonight at the Mile One Centre. Two of my man friends accompanied me. I took some extraordinarily crappy phone pictures to post, but somehow the damn photos won’t upload. So I’ll post them tomorrow, although it won’t really matter, because all you can see is glaring lights and a rock god in the distance.
ANYWAY, great show. Tons of energy. Lots of new music, not very much old. This is both good and bad: I really enjoyed his new stuff and I am now more inclined to buy his music. On the other hand, I did not leave the concert feeling blissful and fulfilled and satisfied. Only when he played “Old Man” did I feel like I had gotten my money’s worth. Briefly.
I hate to be a complainer, or a poser, or whatever the fuck you wanna call me. But seriously, hit songs are popular for a reason. The crowd went nuts when the popular tunes began, and the atmosphere immediately shifted. It should be like that for the entire performance.
Still, Neil Young knows how to ROCK OUT. My lord can that man play a guitar. He’s like 500 years old and he’s still got it.
Note to self: Never buy General Admission tickets again. EVER. Standing in a mob of people smelling like a mixture of armpit and cologne for three hours is excruciating. It zapped my will to live. Love. Laugh. 80% of the time, my view was blocked by tall assholes. There should be some sort of national concert etiquette: tall assholes in the back, short assholes in the front. At one point a fat guy wearing a leather jacket pushed me out of the way very forcefully. I was so angry that I picked up an empty beer bottle from the floor and hurled it as his head (that didn’t actually happened but I envisioned it for a solid hour). I could see him a few people ahead of me, swirling and flicking his long, curly, greasy hair all over the place. Rocking out. Thanks sweaty beer man, go bob somewhere else. And get a haircut you stupid fuck, maybe then you’ll get laid sometime.
Greener, Jono and I wandered around for a bit afterwards. Georg e Street was packed with drunkards basking in the afterglow of a concert. We dropped into Whalen’s Pub and then headed to a skeety bar located over Trapper John’s, but since my feet hurt and I’m all kinds of lame, I headed home instead. It was a risky endeavour: I didn’t get stabbed, but I did get approached by a man who tried to talk to me and then whistled as I walked away. Now he knows where I live.
I read 43 books last year, about seven books short of 2007′s list. I won’t bore you with my opinions on each one (plus I can’t remember most of them), but I will enlighten you with my personal favorites/hates.
Angela’s Ashes – Frank McCourt
A Thousand Splendid Suns - Khaled Hosseini
The Birth House – Ami Mckay
The Navigator of New York – Wayne Johnston
Water For Elephants – Sara Gruen
A Year In Provence – Peter Mayle
The Book Of Negroes – Lawrence Hill
Not Wanted On The Voyage – Timothy Findley
The Shack – William P Young
A Discovery Of Strangers – Rudy Wiebe
Twilight – Stephanie Meyer
Okay, so apparently I’m easy to please, although I’m the only person in the world who despised Twilight. I’m just going to put aside my pretentious English background for a moment and ignore the shitty writing, but the story was just awful. Gee, let’s just encourage preteens to ditch all their friends in favour of true love with dangerous men. Such a needy character. I hope the vampire dude beats her in the end.
I also read The Shack because of all the hype. I was expecting an enlightening read, and while I really agree with most of the theology being preached, the story was just boring as hell. Like dull as rocks. Rocks in a dessert.
For my favorites… The Navigator Of New York really affected me because I had spent some time researching Cook. To read a different (fictional) version of his life was distressing. Note to self: read more Johnston.
I literally finished Water For Elephants in one sitting — it was that enthralling. I was equally enraptured by The Book Of Negroes. The fact that Lawrence Hill can write so effectively from a female’s point of view is amazing.
But Not Wanted On The Voyage had an incredible, lasting effect on me. Book hangover. I can’t even really pinpoint the reason why… I don’t know of anyone else who enjoyed the book as much as I did. Perhaps it was the mix of drama and animals and religion. I don’t know. But I clearly remember that little chill that crept up my spine with the concluding sentence.
Moving on to 2009…more books, less movies, double the porn. Uhh…
The meat mystery turned out not to be a mystery at all, but an unfortunate incident involving Beer and forgotten moose meat. Yum. We found a steak hidden under the pillows later that day.
After work yesterday, I literally spent the entire evening watching movies and TVs. Myself and a few ladies went to see Seven Pounds, mostly because I feel that Will Smith is the love of my life. The movie was extremely good, but heartbreaking. I tried to hold in my tears until my eyeballs nearly exploded, but then I heard everyone else sniffling and snorting beside me, so I let loose too.
After the movie was over, I purchased a purple pair of open-toed shoes at Le Chateau to make myself feel better. It worked. I love how the purple accentuates my ankle veins.
Then, at home, I found myself watching The Women. It wasn’t bad, although suspiciously similar to Sex and the City…right down to the skanky blonde and the curly-haired sweetheart. Wtf.
Tonight I shall do something productive. Like laundry. Maybe a new recipe. Learn some Spanish phrases. Cerveza?