Goodnight Tonight

Well it's been just over a week since I went to see Sir Paul McCartney and it has taken me this long to soak it all in and consider how awesomely fantastic the show was. Yep. That long.

The McCartney concert was my first huge name concert and, thinking about it, you can't get much bigger than Sir Paul McCartney. Seeing him was something that I'd always dreamt of and to finally see him was amazing. In the space of two years I've managed to see the two musicians that I desperately wanted to. I was able to see Elvis Costello last year at Massey Hall in Toronto and that was also mind blowing. In the back of my head I was hoping he might make a surprise appearance with Sir Paul but unfortunately that didn't eventuate.

Regardless of my indifferent attitude throughout the day I teeming with butterflies in my stomach. I just didn't know how else to react until we were outside the Sommet Centre on Broadway in Nashville. Up until that night I had no idea what 20,000 people in one spot looked like but I'm sure it was a sold out show. The only criticism I have of the show was the fact that the souvenirs/t-shirt stand and the beer kiosks upstairs were in bothersome spots. However I doubt that Paul had anything to do with that.

As my blog doesn't even remotely resemble a music review (he is though - check it out) I won't bore you with most of details of the set list or which instruments he played. Had I known that those sort of details were available on Wikipedia I probably would have been less enthusiastic about going or, at least, I would have kept turning to Chelsea and saying 'This is going to be [song x]. Pretty annoying. Instead Paul and his band really, genuinely surprised me. They opened with Venus and Mars/Rock Show which was awesome because I don't think too many people expected that. I've just had a gander at the set list again and he ended up playing 20 Beatles songs which which is odd because it didn't seem like that many. Two other unusual songs he played were 'Letting Go' and 'Ram On'. Apparently there were some people down the front with requests for it. If I knew that worked I would have asked for 'In Spite of All the Danger' or, as Chelsea reminded me seconds ago, 'Calico Skies'. There were a couple of acoustic breaks where I thought he'd give it a bash. What he played was fantastic though.

The crowd was certainly enthusiastic and I couldn't smell any pot. Surprisingly. I think it was pretty equal parts older folks to younger kids. In fact I was sat behind a teenage wunderkind who hooted and hollered at every single song. At first it mostly annoyed me but then I realised I was doing the same thing after the song so we ended up meeting eye to eye on the noise level. The dance fuel alcohol made a less than suprising appearance in the crowd but no one embarrassed themselves. I hate to say it but Monday night was indeed just one of those feel good times.

To complete the surprising night Paul noticed a sign down the front that said "I want to play a song with you". It belonged to a young Mexican kid. Paul, in his playful mood, said "Do you really want to play a song with us? Pressure's on man!". After a couple of seconds Paul invited him up on stage and then said to the band "I wonder what he's going to play?". He asked the dad "Hey Dad, what does he play? Guitar? Anything? I don't know!". Getting no answer and upon finding out the boy was Mexican Paul said told him to dance while the band played. In his very best Spanish of course. The band jumps straight in to 'Get Back' and the kid does indeed start dancing. This is no ordinary dance though. It looked as if he was stuck in the first stage of the chicken dance - arms tucked in the side, knees together and swinging the hips from side to side. I don't think he cared though. He was rocking out. He took the opportunity on stage to sing with Paul. The kid went from being unknown Mexican boy to schoolyard famous in under 30 seconds. I did wonder if the little guy went back stage later on.

Paul also signed the back of a young lady in the audience who had a Hofner bass tattoo. It was becoming the Paul McCartney Show and it was certainly entertaining. He thought it was a pretty decent tattoo and, when she turned around for him to sign, said he could get in to a lot of trouble for this. As he went in to sign he leant towards the microphone and said "Jimmy... Buffett". Tricky, Paul. Tricky and mean. They finished off with 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club' and 'The End'. What impressed me about 'The End' is they didn't play note for note off of the album. Instead all three guitarists got to show off their chops off and it was awesome. Amazingly, fantastically, wonderfully, awesome. Everything was as it was meant to be.

I will admit I cried a couple of times during the show. It was good though. Definitely not a saddened cry but one like so many people before me have shed. While I was crying I kept thinking of all the teenage girls in the 60s (many of were probably watching Paul now) screaming, shouting, crying and baying for more Beatles. I used to think how stupid it was that they were crying over something so joyous. Now I'm aware of why they did.

If I get another chance to see Sir Paul McCartney then that would be all shades of brilliant. If I don't then I'm more than happy I got once chance to do so.

I'll Sail My Ship Alone

Howdy chaps and chapettes. Let me update you on what's going on with me in Tennessee. It's mostly fun and thirty percent excitement and that equals a whole load of throwing up!

My being here in Tennessee has ruffled some feathers and, as of July 19, has caused Chelsea and I to move out of the Bennett household. As it so happens I have been accused of fondling Chelsea, snooping in the belongings of those I love and being disrespectful to those in the Bennett house. As it happens I don't believe that I'm guilty of any of the accusations and that Chelsea is being unfairly treated. As it happens she's finally moved out to an apartment in the Nashville area. It's beautifully located in Hillsboro Village and just near everything I love about Nashville. Finally there's public transport in to Nashville and I really like that. There's also Taco Mamacita literally down the road and they are the only people I know who serve Sue. It's like eating a fireplace but in a very yummy, delicious way. I'm wondering how much of my arm I would get cut off in order to get a pint. Probably up to the elbow.

Surprise wise I managed to spook Chelsea with a surprise party on Saturday! I cooked up some delicious guacamole, an Irish bruschetta (feta, orange pepper and green tomato), baked mushrooms with sweet potato, oregano and goat's cheese and a Guinness cake with a Baileys frosting. Everything went well and I was really happy that Chelsea was surprised because with out 'surprise' it's not even close to being a surprise party. I still need to get her present but I'm sure she'll like it. She's my darling girl.

Existentially I am having some trouble coping with my eventual death but I'm hoping that's some time in the future. Like at least 3 years. Five at the real outside. I'm not sure if I should stay in Canada, go back to England or return home to Australia. It truly is frustrating when you realise that you're 24, you've 'travelled' the world (i.e. gone to England, drunk yourself silly, realised Canada's a viable option, flown over there, drunk yourself silly and then wondered why you're still a virgin) and then you decide to scratch your backside and figure out which way your life is going? To be honest I have no idea and I'm certainly not going to offer any clues here. I imagine that I'll probably figure out a temporary solution and I'll be happy until the next time I take my clothes off for a shower. I'm getting to an age where I can't afford to fart about and hope to get away with it. Currently I'm being shown far more reasons to go home than to stay. I don't know, intrepid readers. I really just do not know.

On a positive note I am getting a haircut. Everyone is in love with haircuts! I really don't think you appreciate a haircut until you leave. They should make you pay, let you leave and then ask how it is. At least that's how I go. I'm one for complimenting the hairdresser no matter how the cut is. I truly believe in self preservation and if I were to air my true feelings about how a haircut has gone I think I'd probably been more bloodied. I have issues with them apparently. Who ever writes a blog paragraph about hairdressers. Me?

So I'm still alive although it may not seem like it. I'm struggling, at times, to deal with reactions and emotions from people who I am supposed to know quite well. I've never really had to deal with much drama and, to be honest, I don't like it. I feel that if I were to return to Australia I would be much calmer. There's something about America where everyone feels like there emotions are substantially more valid than someone else walking down the street. I think there's just a calmer demeanour in Australia. There's certainly drama but not to this extent.

I don't feel like I should be this evil, moustache twirling, madam-strapped-to-the-tracks effigy that I'm currently being portrayed as. I really would like to live my life as drama free as possible but, as I'm soon discovering, it may seem to be difficult when you're dealing with other humans. I honestly can't let this continue. I can't let my reputation and, as an extension of my own being, my girlfriend's reputation be muddied by people who are too indolent to figure out a way of contact. If I were to be brutally honest I would wish for a line-up of people who have besmirched my character while I've been down in the United States and just have a brief moment of their time to either slap them or to talk them out of their ludicrous, fictitious world they've created. Either way I'd be sufficiently happy to leave this country.

Don't think of me as angry, regretful or just plain rude. I'm not and if I were then I'm sure that I would have more enemies. It's saddening for me that I've tried to be nice and it seems like there's somewhat of a neutron star effect going on where all that I've 'created' with this nice façade has suddenly come back to bite me square on the arse cheeks. I'm wondering what would have happened if I had tried to be cruel to people. If I had not considered their feelings whatsoever or, at least, tried to manipulate them to act like my little puppets. I'm sure I'm capable of that but I'll be damned if I'll be drawn in to acting like that toward people. No thanks.

On a positive note I can go to get tacos any time I want. It's a shame I don't really like tacos. I'm more of a burrito man. They're the less messy, more delicious tasting equivalent. I'm really wary of trying these soft tacos. If I want hard burritos I'll just leave them out for a day or two! No thanks. Burritos > Tacos. That should be a shirt. This playful dinosaur is showing the exact opposite emotions to the ones that I'm feeling currently. More like "Make Me A Burrito!'" am I right?
 

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