Absolute Gentleman

I’ve seen Pearl Jam in concert probably ten times in my life, and each time I leave one of their shows I want to be alone and mourn over what seems to be an emptiness inside of me, as if I’ve just had to say goodbye to someone who affected my life deeply. They walk away from me and unknowing and lacking care that they’ve left my beating organ bloodied on the shore.

I went to see Eddie Vedder play during his solo tour in Albany, New York – quite possibly, along with Springfield, Massachusetts, the reigning toilet of the United States of America. Get down on your knees, Albany, and thank Eddie Vedder, and anyone else who chooses to step into the toilet, for shining their light upon your filth.

Why don’t you leave then?

I’ve been trying.

The show at the Palace Theatre was intimate and mesmerizing, even if Ed is still, in essence, learning how to play the guitar. He obviously looked up the basic story behind the recent history of Albany – probably Wikipedia’d Albany to find out what has destroyed it. He even attached himself to the area by telling a story of how he called his mother (of Betterman fame) and rehashed their family’s roots in the region. He tried, in what seemed like a folksy storytelling session slash MTV Unplugged show.

The crowd, though, in typical Albany fashion, was awful. They were pushy, drunk, stoned, scowling, bald, ugly, fat, pseudo-political, ungrateful, and rude. Still, they needed to buy the $35 poster and the $40 shirt to let everyone know they were there. There was a pathetic band of Sox-hat-wearing posers, in Upper Right, Row H, around seats 120-124, who had to get up every sixteen seconds and help a loser who couldn’t handle her booze and blunts before (and during) the show.

I wanted to be alone when Ed was done, because it’s difficult to process what just happened, difficult to review the ephemeral wave of passion you just felt, the love you shared, when the person just gets up and walks away from you with hardly any words. It’s hard when there doesn’t seem to be a conclusion to what you considered wonderful. Time is just taken away.

And it’s worse when you’re surrounded by the humanity I was that night.

You complain so much. All you do is complain here.

I never got to tell you that you look exactly like a monkey. The whole bottom lip thing…all of it. Maybe one day I’ll get to tell you.

There are books that have left me with a powerful combination of love and emptiness,

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

The Catcher in the Rye

On the Road

The Great Gatsby

but I can always go back to them if I want. There’s no going back to this, though. It’s preserved and ruined forever.