And
the singer/songwriter? Jason Cowsill
(son of Bob), The Shape of the Journey
cd. I never expected it to be as good as
it was, but it really was astonishing. I
should apologize to the guy for letting him sit on the “To be listened to when
I get around to it” pile for so long.
Reminded me of Bill Miller, too -
and everyone knows Miller is a long-time favorite of mine. Only wish:
that he’d printed the lyrics on the liner. As it was, I had to sit there with one ear
literally glued to the speaker to catch every word. A bit annoying, actually. But even so, it had me sitting there,
seriously impressed with how close he came to the same vision I had of the
birth of everything. And all this time I
had been thinking I was the only one who had that image of the REAL “big bang”,
so to speak, in my mind.
And
while I’m learning new things ... I learned an important piece of information
about dandelion tea: it can taste
differently depending on who’s selling it to you. Drank one batch of them from one supplier; just drank
another cup from another one; they tasted
differently. One tasted more “earthy” than
the other, if that made sense. Both
tasted good; just ... different. So, is
that because the earth the dandelions were grown is has a different “flavor” to
it?
Despite
the fact that I woke up a few mornings ago to discover sleet, ice and snow all
over the ground (you don’t know the details of my reaction to THAT discovery –
none of it is appropriate for this blog), it seems to me that now is about the
time to start growing the seeds in my little seed grower contraption. You’re supposed to start them – depending on
the plant – some 4 to 6 weeks before transplanting out of doors, so this is
about right.
The Cutting Room - Epic Fail
|
The venue itself could have definitely handled it infinitely better than
they did ... we stood outdoors on a long line on 32nd Street for
well over an hour before even coming anywhere near the front door. By show time (7:00 p.m.) a huge swath of
people were still outside, on a line, getting totally freaked out because they
thought they were going to miss the start of the concert. No one from the venue came outside to
reassure us that the concert hadn’t started, and was delayed so that they could
get everyone indoors. One person asked
about it at the front of the line, and the venue tried to blame the Cowsills
for the late start – luckily, no one who knew the family and their discipline
and professionalism bought THAT explanation even for a second. You heard, “That’s bullsh*t!” all the way
down the line when that was passed back.
Sorry, Cutting Room – absolutely no one bought your trying to blame The
Cowsills for your screw-ups. Just
saying.
Our unilateral
suspicion was that they had literally no idea how incredibly popular and
beloved The Cowsills were, and were taken by complete surprise at the volume of
people who showed up for the concert. In
fact, we all watched as one of the Cutting Room employees walked the sidewalk
close to starting time, counting people and then walked back inside with a look
of serious concern on his face. An epic
fail on the part of The Cutting Room.
But the Cowsills Themselves?
I
would not have missed that concert for all the (pick one): tea in China, olives in Tuscany, oranges in
Valencia, pastries in Denmark, WHATEVER!
That much energy swirling around does all sorts of things to your
emotional state ... and I’d been sitting at home, alone, in such isolation for
so long, it was almost a shock to my system, not only being back home in New
York City – which everyone knows is simply coursing with a powerful buzzing energy
anyway - but being at that concert, on that month, on that day. The emotional impact was exacerbated by the
fact that the concert was held three years (minus two days) since my brother Jim
died, also in New York ... so if you don’t think that didn’t impact me
emotionally, think again. A lot of
emotional things coincided, all at once.
In short, while I basically held it together outwardly; inwardly, I was
an emotional high wire, twanging at everything.
As
for The Cowsills, THEY were perfect.
Absolutely perfect. Pitch perfect,
note perfect, set list perfect, banter perfect, the whole package. The audience spent the entire concert in the
palm of their (collective) hand, laughing, crying, singing along and loving
every minute of it. They faced a packed
room of people who absolutely adored all of them, and would have sat there all
night long, if the band wanted to keep going.
The concert felt like it was over way too soon – although they must have
put in a good 90 minutes, if not longer, I was not wearing a watch – but I didn’t
want it to end, that’s how good it was.
Here’s a small snippet – the one and only Cowsills singing “The Rain,
The Park and Other Things” at the Cutting Room, sounding every bit as wonderful
as they did when the song was first released. I'll probably be babbling happily about this wonderful concert for months to come, it was that good.
Physically
– well, that’s another story.
I should
never have pushed myself to go, as I did.
Woke up this morning to dual leg spasms so bad I actually fell out of
bed, crying out in pain, and pulled the contents of the nightstand down on top
of me. Throughout today, spasms all
throughout my legs and feet, muscles around my shins are spasming and I know
that was from constantly trying to keep my balance without the walker, which I
couldn’t bring with me because I had a suitcase; numbness moved up to the backs
of my knees and it wasn’t there before, back spasms, the works.
I
have spent today going “WTF did I do to myself?” I don’t even want to know what I did to
myself. Thank goodness I don’t see the
physical therapist until Wednesday because he will want to know when this all
changed, and I don’t want to tell him what I did to provoke it. “Stood on lines for 2 hours trying to see and
meet the Cowsills, leaning on a cane until I saw black spots before my eyes and
knew I was about to faint?”, “I told you not to use the cane until I told you that
you could use the cane; didn’t I tell you that?!” “Yes, I know you did, but ... you don’t
understand, I REALLY wanted to see the Cowsills."
I
have no defense other than, “I really wanted to go, I’ve been waiting to see
them perform live for 45 years!” I know
he won’t care; I’m either going to have to lie, or get railed up one side and
down the other. And I don’t want “She deliberately
disobeyed my instructions!” on my permanent medical record. Because that is exactly what I did. I’ve been taking muscle relaxers all day to
the point where I’m dizzy, and they’re not helping. Taking Tylenol for the pain, and it’s not
even making a dent. And I can’t even
complain about it because it’s my own fault; I did it to myself. I have two days to make up a whopper of a
lie, and I really don’t want to do that, either. (“*Duh*, I dunno, I just woke up Monday
morning, and it was like this; I don’t know what happened, it’s a mystery ...”) Hopefully, he doesn’t read blogs.
I’m
the first to admit I’m an idiot who should have known better. But you have to understand ... I REALLY
wanted to see The Cowsills!
Meanwhile,
the boys from Il Volo just hit the 2 million mark with Grande Amore, surprising exactly no one because the song is so
beautiful.
So
there you have it: a wonderful musical
weekend followed by intense physical suffering.
Here’s hoping I get my physical act together before I get yelled
at. And I still don’t regret for one second finally seeing The
Cowsills live for the first time in my life, but don’t tell my physical therapist I said that.
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