Ten Years in the Making

What do you do when you finally meet your hero?

Let’s rewind to May 1995. This was when I had my first chance to see Throwing Muses live! They were performing at the Shriver Auditorium, which is on the Johns Hopkins (proper) campus. I remember that band the Ass Ponies opened for Throwing Muses that night. I wasn't very impressed with them, so I wandered down into the bowels of the auditorium's basement to find a restroom. There was no one down there at all. Completely empty. I was in a hurry and wanted to get back upstairs before Throwing Muses took the stage. I yanked the bathroom door open, charged out into the hallway, and ran right into Kristin Hersh. Literally. And I did what any other refined, starstruck 23 year-old would have done: I mumbled a pathetic apology to my shoes and fled!

Fast-forward to March 1997. Throwing Muses played a show at Fletchers here in Baltimore. It's a tiny club and the crowd was good, but small. I got there super early with a friend of mine. We were there so early, in fact, that Kristin was alone at the bar getting drinks. I don't think other people around even knew who she was. I pointed her out to my friend, but I couldn't say anything to him about her. All I could do was point and stare like I had gotten a glimpse of the ever-elusive baby panda. He poked me really hard in the back and was pushing me towards her. I panicked! What would I say? How could I say anything without coming off like a total stalker? I did what any other mature, starstruck 25 year-old would do: I fled and locked myself in a bathroom stall.

Now let's fast-forward to Summer 2005. Lady Friend and I arranged a trip into Boston to see Kristin's new band, 50 Foot Wave, perform at a club in Cambridge. As my luck would have it, a sewer line exploded hours before the show and the city shut down all the power in a small 4×4 block radius. You guessed it, the club was right in the middle of those blocks and the show was cancelled. I can't even articulate the disappointment that set in.

Fast-forward to last night. LF and I made the much-hated drive through D.C. to Alexandria, VA to see Kristin Hersh perform a solo show at The Birchmere. She was the opening act for Bob Mould of Husker Du fame. The drive, of course, was gross, but we were determined to see her this time. We got there with just enough time to get a bottle of wine and settle in near the front of the stage. Kristin came out and did all of her songs alone with her acoustic guitar. I won't even attempt to describe how perfect it was because I can't. But to hear her sing some of those old, loud Throwing Muses songs quietly, with just her voice and a guitar, made all the songs new again.

After she finished her set, she put a box of homemade demo cd's out on the stage for sale. She called it the “honor box” and left it there for people to put their $10 in and take a cd. A couple of minutes later, she came out and sat down and started signing cd's. I don't think people even noticed she was there at first. I walked up to her this time. I didn't even think about it. I handed her my cd and she simply said, “Hi.” I told her we missed her in Boston because of the exploding manhole covers. She put her hand on my arm and told me how sweet it was that we went all the way up there see the show and how disappointed she was that it didn't happen because her dad and oldest oldest son were going to be there too. She said they will be back next summer though. She thanked us again for going to Boston to see the show that never happened and she thanked us for going to she show last night.

I went back and sat down in my chair and only then did my heart start pounding and my hands start shaking. Sometimes you don't want to meet your hero because you are afraid of being disappointed and let down. I will admit, I have (obviously) been afraid of meeting Kristin Hersh. My fear hasn't been based in potential disappointment, though. My fear has been based in the possibility that I will become more obsessed and fall even more in love with her music after meeting her. After last night, my fear has been realized.

Ten years in the making. What's old is new again. I'm more of a fan now than ever.

What’s Your Dating Personality Type?

Funny. In real life, I’ve been a maid of honor a few times…

The Maid of Honor Deliberate Gentle Love Master (DGLMf )     Appreciated for your kindness and envied for all your experience, you are The Maid of Honor.  Charismatic, affectionate, and terrific in relationships, you are what many girls would call a “perfect catch”–and you probably have many admirers, each wishing to capture your long-term love. You're careful, extra careful, because the last thing you want is to hurt anyone. Especially some poor girl whose only crime was liking you. Your exact opposite: Half-cocked Random Brutal Sex Dreamer We've deduced you're fully capable of a dirty fling, but you do feel that post-coital attachment after hooking up. Conscientious person that you are, you do your best to reserve physical affection for those you respect…so you can respect yourself. Your biggest negative is the byproduct of your careful nature: indecision. You're just as slow rejecting someone as you are accepting them. ALWAYS AVOID : The Battleaxe , The Stiletto , The Sudden Departure , The Dirty Little Secret CONSIDER : The Maid of Honor , someone just like you. Link: The 32-Type Dating Test

Here are the other types.

It’sssSNot Funny

I think I have the bird flu.

jejune: M-W’s Word of the Day

M-W’s Word of the Day, with my own additions:

jejune \jih-JOON\ adjective

1 : lacking nutritive value
*2 : devoid of significance or interest : dull
3 : juvenile, puerile

Example sentence:
Anger Hangover’s jejune job often left her dozing in the cubicle.

Did you know?
If you are starved for excitement, you won’t get it from something jejune. That term derives from the Latin “jejunus,” which means “empty of food,” “meager,” or “hungry.” Back in the 1600s, English speakers used “jejune” in senses very similar to those of its Latin parent, lamenting “jejune appetites” and “jejune morsels.” Something that is meager usually doesn’t satisfy one’s desires, and before long “jejune” was being used not only for meager meals or hunger, but also for things wanting in intellectual or emotional substance. The word most likely gained its “juvenile” or “childish” sense when people confused it with the look-alike French word “jeune,” which means “young.”

*Indicates the sense illustrated in the example sentence.