In Prague, this would have been the normal attire for a concert… (the suit, not the beard)
Attend a dance club, concert, or a performing art event. (again)
The music was wonderful. Ethereal, You sang like angels. It wasn’t your fault.
You see, I come to concerts to listen to the music. Not to look at the choir (unless I am bored), not to dance or hum, not to take pictures with my huge camera (yes, a man in my row took ten pictures, click click, during the concert; I’m just glad he didn’t use flash), not to show everyone that my musical taste is exquisite.
Sometimes when I sit and listen to the music, I close my eyes.
You see, I squint when I’m tired (and God knows there are days when three small boys can make you tired; I’m glad I don’t have to feed the baby during the night), and for some reason it’s especially difficult to sit in a dark room and look at scene with lights. Especially when the air is thick. Like at a concert.
I strained my eyes, but everything went blurry at once. I tried to look at one of the singers, but suddenly he had a doppelgänger, and I got confused as to who was who. I tried to focus on a head in the crowd instead, and it helped a few minutes, but then the audience heads got blurry as well.
I tried to relax my eyes, to let them slide out to their preferred position — it meant I didn’t see anything clearly, but at least I didn’t get that tired.
However, they sleep in that position: whenever I squint like that, I get all sleepy, my eyes get heavy, my head… zzz
My head shot back up. Hopefully my neighbours in the audience hadn’t noticed. (They were probably busy getting annoyed with the man with the camera.) I pinched myself.
Pinching myself usually works for some time. The pain wakes me up, my eyes realize they shouldn’t be sliding anywhere, and I pay attention.
However, it seldom works for long. I pinch myself harder and harder, I get pinch marks al over my hand, I almost draw blood, but the only consequence is that my pain threshold gets raised. In the end, my eyes give up, they realise that the pain doesn’t mean danger at all, it’s my pinching myself, and they slide out once more.
I swear, you sang like angels. I could hear you even though I closed my eyes. I remember thinking “this is a wonderful lullaby, so calm, so serene, I wish I could listen to this while falling asleep”.
Which, of course, I eventually did.
I am sorry. I never wanted to be a caricature of a Jiggs (himself a caricature, of course). I don’t want to insult the artists, or anyone in the audience, and I sure don’t want to fall asleep while I listen to this kind of music. I want to listen to it, dammit, that’s why am there.
Next time, I’ll bring matchsticks. I don’t need to see anything, but I obviously cannot not see.
On Old Age 