magical

Last night's Joao Gilberto concert was nothing short of magical.

My heart has never pumped so much faster than it did last night, and yet... the night could not have gotten any more hilarious (and equally frustrating) as well.

Ok, let's say what there is to say right now. Joao Gilberto is a legend. Il Mito in Brazil. Nothing short of amazing. Vou Te Contar almost reduced me to tears, and so did the other songs. When he walked in and raised his guitar, I stood up when nobody else did. And when he sang, man did he sing his heart out. I mean, look, this guy just turned 77, and all his chords were still crisp and he was still funny (although I laughed about 15 seconds later than everybody, only after this woman next to me started translating what he was saying to his hubby). But that was really 2 hours of straight guitar-only, raw, beautiful, pristine music. Bossa Nova as it should be without synthesizers and belly dancers.


As you can see, I didn't really have the best seat in the house. After all, it's Carnegie Hall, and a working student like myself can only afford so much. But I will say this, it was a fairly good view, and for what I paid for it, it was worth the money. Heck, I would have paid orchestra price for this and I would still go home satisfied. I felt so refreshed that I literally started walking home after the concert. I was THAT high. Well, if it wasn't for the Marketing paper that I had due, I would have done it.

Of course, you could sense that rant all the way from the beginning.

Well, at first, I was seated behind a lovely Brazilian couple who just gushed over Mr. Gilberto's music as much as I did. They clapped and hollered, which seemed excessive from behind, but hey, the people behind me might think the same way about me, so just leave them be. All was good in the world (except for the routine few cellphones, coughs, grunts and wheezes that we have learned to uncontrollably turn and sneer towards).

And then it happened.

Two guys (I will start here and let you develop the anecdote the rest of the way) came in, one was white, the other, Asian with a disturbing amount of gel on his hair, brushed all the way back, and a well-trimmed goatee and sideburns. In case I offend anybody, go paint the picture yourselves.

Not enough? oh, seems like I've only given you a canvas. Let's add some color.

They came in and chased the lovely couple away, who apparently was just being opportunistic at a better view. So they were the new people in front of me. White boy is not interested at all, as if Asian male forced him to accompany him to the concert. White boy dozing off, head turning around 360 like a Ferris wheel. Can't blame him, takes some learning to appreciate an 80-year old man and his guitar. So white man was typical American trying to look sophisticated in prestigious Hall. Sort of a glorified tourist.

Move on to exhibit G.

Asian man was the worst. Brushes back hair with his hand every 30 seconds (not exaggerating), looks over his shoulder and stares at white boy 10 seconds at a time, raises legs in a fetal position and taps knees to the beat (he was offbeat) of Joao's bossa nova. Shakes head constantly (feeling-feeling) for no apparent reason, leans over to white man, as if seeking approval.

Ok, enough. I should sue them because all of that observation took place in the timespan of a song. They took that moment away from me.

And then, when Joao played his famous Desafinado, Asian man cupped both hands on his mouth and started bouncing around like a kid suffering from ADD. Looks over with white boy with "can you feel the love tonight" eyes, which prompts white man to place his arms around Asian dude.

ENOUGH.

Just recounting it made me vomit in my mouth.

So yes, the concert was amazing save those few sporadic moments. I thought to myself, maybe if I bought better tickets, I wouldn't have to suffer such a fate, but then I remembered it's New York, and it could only get worse as sophistication kicks in.

I will also say this, I think being emo about finding the right person is so 2005. Last night, I wanted to be a grandpa. That's right. If I become a grandpa, I want to be the cool one, who plays the guitar for the kids, and the kids don't really appreciate it until theyre about 16, when they start hearing Vou Te Contar and Estate in their heads, lulling them to sleep.

Alright, I'm just suffering from post-paper stress, so if anything I said above was offensive or nonsensical, pardon my ignorance.

Hope everybody is doing well. At the moment, I plan to return first week of January, unless the plan hits some roadblocks, so better meet up!

Finals this week!

I'M OUT!