peter gabriel is inside a ball

so ends one of my favorite arguments with The Mysterious MZ.

In 1992, or 3, Peter Gabriel had just crested the top of his game, and was about to make that thrilling descent. Cast yer mind back, because we may have all been cresting the top of our game at that time. It’s hazy for me but I think we were all collecting musics of the world as they were presented to us by western artists (or, alternatively, we were watching the original incarnation of Korn in Bakersfield, or nearly throwing out the pj harvey album because it reminded us of patti smith [THANK JEEBUS I DINT]).


I was trying to have breakfast with MZ at The Diggery (which I cannot recommend) and he kept gettting up to use a payphone to call to get tickets to the Peter Gabriel show. It was clear he was doing this for our mutual benefit, but the transaction was bringing me down, the the way Laurie Anderson’s Hansel does to Gretel.

So I was a little needy, yes, what of it?

I feel as prepared today to fight with MZ about this as I was the day it occurred: a classic man-woman war of intention and expectation and assumption and desire. Go. Fill in the blanks.

He got tickets, exquisite fourth-row ones, for which I was dutifully charged my portion. Then the tour was cancelled due to someone important in the band overdosing, I mean, coming down with the flu. The rescheduled show date conflicted with one of our pilgrimages to New York, which I had not lairnt to tolerate as well as I do now. I was happy to cancel the New York trip.

But MZ insisted on giving up the tickets he had annoyed me with on so many many levels, and completing our lil visit to fucking hell.

The guy who bought the tickets went with us to see Peter Gabriel tonight, where I spent the whole evening thinking about

  1. what a difference a decade makes, and
  2. peter gabriel is dressed like a jedi, and
  3. he’s making someone pretend she’s rowing in a stationary boat, and
  4. it’s over for this man, solsbury hill or no solsbury hill
  5. the diehard fans did bring a tear to me one good eye, because
  6. there weren’t enough of them to open the upper decks in the arena

I think I’m going to learn to write like steve.

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