the brain of last night’s crowd at the saratoga performing arts center

originally posted August 14, 2006
Fifteen thousand cloudy and pickled minds, thirty thousand hands, thirty thousand feet, spoiling for a fight, spoiling for pussy, pissing in corners, pissing in sinks, pissing in janitor’s buckets, frenzied, wailing, stomping, falling, pushing, shoving, eyes on the zipper of your backpack, the zipper of your 14-year-old daughter’s jeans. We paid money for this, to stand on our feet, on concrete, on guard, for six hours in the sloping lawn section above the pavilion. At last a weathered blond musician took the stage, and within minutes had the crowd soothed, had them singing, not unpleasantly, almost every line from every song, with heartfelt sincerity. For a few moments, I almost felt affection for the stinking mob. I love that Tom Petty.