Encore?

I'm not quite sure of what to say. A lot of thoughts this weekend, not sure about what words to put with them...

May 1, 2002:

and then there's averi. those little punkass creeps...alright, i can't even type that without laughing. averi was wonderful. averi is wonderful.

Full circle, in many respects. Because as I walked with Beth, Michelle and Maura to my car so we could head to the Skybar last night, I realized I was cursing Averi again. Those bastards made me cry at the Avalon.

And I don't cry at shows. Not that kind of girl.

I thought I was home free. I'd made it through watching the band take the stage and look a bit dazed at the size of the crowd. No problems during most of the songs I'd heard countless times. Made it through "Despondent" and Michael's sax solo that always makes me catch my breath.

It was, of all things, during "Flutter." Cliched, I know. The Boston song. The "aw shucks" song. The song I've teased and been teased about. The first song I listened to when I got home from the party after that first show.

And there I am, standing about seven rows back from the stage at Avalon. I hear that first goddamn chord and BAM.

Tears in eyes. And when you're trying to play it as if you're not just about to cry and you're wearing eye makeup that's going to run and your friends are going to see because they've been watching you watch the band...

Bastards. Punkass creeps, indeed. And yet, as I did cry (and just a tear, might I add, in the sentimental sort of way, not the Tori "Gold Dust" kind of way), I started laughing myself silly.

It was foolish, it was dopey and it didn't last long because I forced myself to resume singing along to the music. The show was an allout explosion of energy, and I spent most of the time sending that energy right back - dancing, singing along and otherwise letting myself just rock out to it.

But that moment was there and I went with it because I was thinking of how much had changed since that first Burlington show. What hadn't changed was my delight at being able to be in the audience, enjoying each moment.

And how proud of them I felt.

***

Speaking of being proud, the feeling carried over (albeit in an extraordinarily different way) to Somerville. Avalon had been packed for Averi, the Skybar was full with people celebrating Andrew's CD release. The man of the hour (er, evening) moved from group to group as the final few tracks off "Natural History" were piped through the speakers, and I was able to give the huge congratulatory hug I'd so hoped to give.

I couldn't help but feel happy as to have made the cross-town trip when the album ended, the audience burst into rounds of applause and A stepped on stage to give the clamored-for speech.

***
We fell into armchairs and onto couch cushions after walking through the front door.

"How was the day? How was the show?"

Grunts of response. Good. Busy. Which one? I quickly curled up into a ball on a chair and rested my head against the armrest. I closed my eyes and listened to the conversation through still-ringing ears.

And, for the record, they're still ringing a bit.


(Click to go to the Flickr. Per usual.)