Poptarticus

Shannon’s Super Sexy Blog. Music. Travel. Randomness. And a Lot of Wine.

A Cup of Kindness

Well, here it is almost midnight on New Year’s Eve. I started out writing about my Top five records of the year, and the best shows of the year (it turned out to be eight because I couldn’t narrow it down to five) but then I figured that would be boring, to anyone but me. Plus I already wrote about all those shows and records. I’ve been at The Vine all evening, and it was fun. Hannah came with Baby Emma and it was all regulars at the bar. I had every intention of getting home really early, but of course that didn’t happen. It doesn’t really feel like New Year’s Eve, just like it didn’t feel like Christmas this year. Almost everyone I’ve talked to feels the same way.

I am sitting here listening to Wilco, their show at Madison Square Garden last New Years Eve. During this show, recorded exacly one year ago, I go from elated to blown away to fighting tears. And that, in a nutshell, has been 2005 for me.

I love listening to live recordings where you can hear an audience so full of pure joy. I think it would be impossible to listen to this crowd last New Year’s Eve at Madison Square Garden yelling and singing along and not be happy, yourself. That abandon is infectuous. I wish there was a way I could explain the gut of me. It all comes down to music, and how music affects my gut. I can’t explain! Elation. Comfort. Fuck me, I can’t explain it. I am happy, and crying at the same time.

This was such a crazy tripped out year. I lost one friend, Nancy, suddenly. But I have the memory of me and her watching the Golden Globes at the Santa Anita Inn after a day of betting on the ponies, last January. It seems a million years ago, but I can clearly taste that boxed Trebbiano. And I have the memory of her puttering around that giant, dusty villa in Taormina, and sitting across from me at lunch in Trastevere, in early Spring. Der Pabst e Morte! I kept saying, just to hear her laugh at my California accent speaking German and Italian in the same sentence. I miss her.

This was, in the long run, a year of music. Obsessions and concerts. A thousand two hour drives, a million Absolute Mandarin and Sodas. A gazillion smiles, a few tender heartbreaks. Well, yes, I am exaggerating.

I am happy tonight. I pray that the world is on an upswing. For one night, let’s all be optimists. The music is killing me, but at the same time it’s keeping me alive. I’m not going outside.

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