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.