Ooh I had a cool birthday, but now it's back to days that are not my birthday. life after the party, as it were. the back of the closet where the socks never match. I tossed out bags of pointless stuff, unearthed things of cardboard and other stuff once held meaning. deleted 445 emails. still cannot think straight. cannot focus. it's impossible. strange is to write the word impossible above a picture of someone who has only ever made me believe anything is possible. & I mean this truly. precious. personal. fuck you...that was mouthed to me at the concert.
Fuck you, a fan mouthed to me. He was entranced but not enough apparently by Who Are You. A tall man, heavyset (fair enough), swaying and mouthing the lyrics thankfully sung by Roger Daltrey. I smiled (and grinned at the change all around me) and the man mouthed "fuck you" with scorn in his eyes straight at me. (me!).
I thought it was funny.
This concert made up for me passing out at Roger Water's show of The Wall back on July 14. I took my friend Kim along to see the Who and when I told Pete the story of me passing out there he laughed with understanding I was making up for lost fun with Kim. (Kim was with me in July, rode in the ambulance, etc.). I won't go into a thing more except this photo was taken by Kim before the concert and conversation followed.
Now I am here with a retrieved Skeeter and the dog is blowing wind so bad I wish completely he would do this to that loser (you know the one).