No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2003-04-12 - 1:44 a.m.

Sam played, and I was content

I want to brand the memory of tonight in my brain forever. It was that good a night.

Stimpy is just the best friend ever. She's fun and relaxed, and she's all about the validation.

Seeing Sam Shaber...well, there's a reason she's my favorite musician ever. I talked to her briefly a couple of times. I would have liked to hang a bit, but I was so afraid of being the scary fanboy. Besides, what do you say to your favorite musician without sounding sycophantic? What do you say to your biggest song-writing inspiration?

What would she say to John Lennon?

But I felt bad, because at the end of the night, she was sitting by herself, but I still didn't feel comfortable. I felt like I'd be imposing my presence on her.

But all that aside, and despite the fact that all the bastard people around me were talking through her set, goddamn.

Goddamn she's so fucking good.

When she plays, there really is nothing else in the world. That's pretty much all there is to it. When she plays, I don't need anything at all. I'm beyond content to just sit and listen.

I don't want to ever forget tonight.

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