David Wilcox, and the headache

Went to see David Wilcox tonight at the Boulton Center in Bay Shore NY. Great show, funny as ever, and his songs still strike that special spot. A bit too much time tuning the guitar, but that was fine, for the kind of show he did. It gave him a chance to do what he does second-best -- tell a story. (That's second only to singing that story.) It was a bit disappointing to see the place a little over half-full, he deserves better than that. But then again, he strikes me as someone who really would love doing it for just a handful.

I hope Wilcox didn't think I was bored. I wasn't -- I was just down. I had a sour stomach and an even sourer disposition. Eating the cost of a ticket has a very bad taste. What hurts much more is why : getting stood up. After all these years and all those turndowns, it still hurts like hell. And while Wilcox's show gave me some smiles, it also reminded me of what I miss. You see, he sings of hope and love, especially about love that grows when all you can expect of it is to die. I can't get it to even begin. I want to be the wonder in a woman's life, the one who gets her heart to blossom. There have even been specific women whom I most wanted to light up. But the story of my life is being not just dumped, but being dumped on my head. Hence, a persistent headache.

I'll gladly take the headaches that come with love.