extemporally

When we all got up and danced and sang along with the people on stage who love David Bowie so much they have made it their actual career to be him, though not exactly, I thought: this is the exact epitome of fandom. This is it: letting it sweep you away despite (because of!) the cheesiness, and knowing every single word to every goddamn song and letting the riffs come and come at you. And participating in an extended in-joke, an exercise in the best sort of earnest irony. It must be so strange being in a tribute band.

I kicked my shoes off and danced and danced and danced. The glitter on them came off anyway.

PS. Not that I'm saying it was a perfect show - the lead singer will never approach the perfection of Lindsay Kemp's original choreography, the vocals were muddy and the most recognisable thing in the end were Bowie's riffs, but the dancing made up for it. Exam tomorrow, la!

MOTHERFUCKING FALL OUT BOY, Y'ALL.


( half omglolmoshpit virgin and half MOTHERFUCKING FALL OUT BOY )


ps. Sorry, guys - no pictures (yet), because I don't know where the memory card reader is, also I sort of gave up on taking pictures early on so I have maybe one million blurry pictures of Cassadee strutting around the stage and about three of Patrick, ahahaha.