"Well I know I make you cry And I know sometimes you wanna die But do you really feel alive without me?" -Damien Rice
The night I was hugged by......
("Here's to another relationship bombed... I walk away cause I can. Too many options may kill a man... Lovin' is good if it's not understood... What make's him tick.... and the lonelier side of the jealousy stick?")
("Do you miss my smell? ...Does he drive you wild, or just mildly free? The boon that beats our drum...")
Damien Rice came to Memphis last Thursday night on the last stop of his American tour. I, of course, was among the emotionally aware, sensitive men, the dedicated (hungry) boyfriends, and the love struck, tear struck girls who gathered at the Orpheum to see and hear him. My preconceived notions about the show were that it would be "pretty chill and mellow" and we would all leave a little bit sadder and feeling a little more understood. Due to the intensity of his lyrics, I thought perhaps he would be the Elliot Smith type. That he would not wish to talk much, he would just do his thing and allow us to drown together with him. I perhaps am coming off as sarcastic, but this is the experience I was expecting and I was thoroughly prepared, yes eager to participate (after all, I do own Closer). After opening the show with “The Professor,” Damien Rice informed us, in an extremely jovial manner, that we should not expect many happy tunes. In fact, all over the states people "have been leaving the show needing therapy,” he said. He had amazing stage presence, educating the males in the audience about what he had coined “the wank test” and playing a long sad prelude to “1 o’clock, 2 o’clock, 3 o’clock rock!” He explained that he was not really a depressed person he just usually didn’t feel like writing when he was happy. The encore included “Suspicious Minds” and “Twist and Shout.” His performance of “Cheers Darlin,’” included a waiter who looked very unlike Elvis aside from their attempts with sideburns and sunglasses. He sang it drunkenly and dripping with sarcasm. It was brilliant, and when he said the word “sparkle” the sexy Irishman won the hearts of at least two American girls (right Elizabeth? ;- ).After the show, I decided we should look for the tour bus.We found it and waited by the stage door where a few other people had gathered.After about twenty minutes people began falling away, and after thirty some of my own troops left.Even my brother wanted to give in to hunger!After nearly an hour, our patience was rewarded.Some crew members came outside and ushered the remaining people through the stage door and into a room in the back of the Orpheum. A few tables and folding chairs had been set up and atop one was a half-full gallon of milk, bowls, and a few cokes.Donald began saying it was a trick and they were just gathering us here so that they could sneak Damien Rice out to the bus. We all clustered at the door not sure what to do.Five minutes later another crew member came in and told us to make ourselves comfortable saying, “You all can go ahead and sit down, the bathroom is through the door in the corner, we’ll get some music and beverages in here shortly!”Soon two men carrying random lamps came through, plugged them in and turned off the overhead lighting. Another man came in and turned on some music.After awhile, more of the crew came in with beer, rum, whiskey and other assorted beverages (however, there were no cups for awhile).
Damien Rice's entrance was nearly unnoticed as he slipped in, bare footed, to hook his ipod up to the speaker. He did not act like a star. He carried around a wineglass full of fruit and smoked continuously. He gave everyone attention and, seemingly, genuine interest. Jamie introduced me saying, "Have you met Emily?" Donald asked him if he had really lived on the streets of Ireland and invited him over to our house next time he was in Memphis (he accepted the invitation). Oh yes, and he hugged me.
I don't know what else to really say except that it was a thrilling experience. And.... let that be a lesson to you! You people who think my ideas are crazy! (I got there with no batteries in my camera, so the videos are borrowed from YouTube. :- )
"And I'll wait for you if you want me to, am I just wasting my time? And I'll wait for you if you ask me to, am I just losing my mind? And I'm always hanging on, and I'm always closing doors, and I'm always saying no. No, when I really, really want it all, when I really, really want it all, when I really, really want it all, when I really, really want you." -Damien Rice
“But where was God now, with heaven full of astronoughts, and the Lord overthrown? I miss God. I miss the company of someone utterly loyal. I still don’t think of God as my betrayer. The servants of God, yes, but servants by their very nature betray. I miss God who was my friend… I do know that if God is your emotional role model, very few human relationships will match up to it. I have an idea that one day it might be possible, and that glimpse has set me wandering, trying to find the balance between earth and sky. If the servants hadn’t rushed in and parted us, I might have been disappointed, might have snatched off the white samite to find a bowl of soup. As it is, I can’t settle, I want someone who is fierce and will love me until death and know that love is as strong as death, and be on my side for ever and ever. I want someone who will destroy and be destroyed by me. There are many forms of love and affection, some people spend their whole lives together without knowing each other’s names. Naming is a difficult and time consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power.But on the wild nights who can call you home?Only the one who knows your name. Romantic love has been diluted into paperback form and has sold thousands and millions of copies. Somewhere it is still in the original, written on tablets of stone.” -Jeanette Winterson’s Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit
I was listening to the unholy rifts of Thelonious Monk turning on the table. I was making the scene, I wanted it. I fell asleep. I had this dream: It was hot. It was snowing, but it was hot. The professor looked out at us and said, “Is anyone else in torment?!” He was in a torrent of sweat and I said I was. I said, "if we open a window it won’t let too much in," and we had moved into my room, there were just a few of us with our books and our candles but it was still too hot and we left and I forgot to lock the door. We wandered around, looking around, we rambled through a frozen parking garage and it was hot! A fat, short, curly headed woman who works in some office on campus was suddenly running after me down the hall in my dorm building, scolding me for not locking my door. Then there was a dry motel I’ve dreamed about before with a perpetual vacant sign hung hanging on a rusty nail and it doesn’t move for lack of wind. The motel was near the pit-stop burrial sight next to the road in the Delta where Sonny Boy Williams dwells under ground with empty whiskey bottle tomb stone memorials that mourners leave in reverent revelry and respect. I was in a Mississippi marsh maze, clearer than most, up to my thighs, reeds over my head and I heard rustling. In a fluttering skirt, trying to move through water I finally saw it- the skinniest cow! I could see ribs and no udder and she looked crazed with green eyes. I thought she would charge me, knock me down, and trample me, but she turned and hurtled through the head higher grass and at first I didn’t understand and almost felt offended at the lack of interest until I realized she was murderously moving towards a road. The road was a two lane barely asphalted highway and it was quiet, almost, but I realized I could hear two sets of galloping hoofs and a beautiful brown horse became visable on the offbeat highway and at the same time I realized she wanted to kill him. I was in panicked anguish and I ran to the road. I had it in my head to save him. I was next to the road now, not out of breath, but anxious. That bony cow was snorting, almost here! I didn’t open my mouth, but somehow I communicated and then I was a unicorn and he had sprouted wings and we flew off and it was all like some corny 80s cartoon cutouts where the figures are manually moved across the scene. I woke up and thought it was weird. I’d never been a little girl lover of horses or a unicorn freak. Ginsberg was still in my bed, but he wasn’t talking.
-me
"In the attics of my life, full of cloudy dreams unreal, full of tastes no tongue can know, and lights no eyes can see, when there was no ear to hear, you sang to me. I have spent my life seeking all that's still unsung, bent my ear to hear the tune, and closed my eyes to see. When there was no strings to play, you played to me. In the book of love's own dream, where all the print is blood, where all the pages are my days, and all the lights grow old, when I had no wings to fly, you flew to me, you flew to me. In the secret space of dreams, where I dreaming lay amazed, when the secrets all are told, and the petals all unfold, when there was no dream of mine, you dreamed of me."
