I took the 45 bus to Market Street after work tonight to eat French fries and read A Separate Peace while waiting for Dan to walk over from his place in Nob Hill and because he was "running few minutes behind sched" I finished the order of fries I'd purchased from Super Duper and then walked to Oasis Grill two doors down to purchase more of them, which I also ate. When Dan arrived a little after seven we rode a BART train beneath the Bay and then walked to the Fox Theater in Oakland to watch Sufjan Stevens, a Michigan-born singer-songwriter, make music on a stage. Although I hadn't heard Mr. Stevens' tunes before purchasing a single song while en route to his concert, Dan had been in possession of an extra ticket and invited me to use it and so I did, which turned out to be a very swell decision.
I would firstly like to note, before describing the aforementioned concert, that the Fox Theater is a truly spectacular venue. It is mammoth and tidy and decorated in gold accents and rich colors and feels kinda like a temple except that there are bars all over the place and also our seats were pretty darn dope. As for the show itself, well, the show itself was a journey of sorts. Despite oh-so-many years of religious education, organized worship isn't something that I ever really got the hang of, but I think Sufjan Stevens' music made me feel how I'd assume a religious experience might feel. At some point during the first song, the name of which I don't know, I sort of dozed into a dream-like state that was aided, no doubt, by a whiskey drink, and as the concert progressed my brain started unlocking memories that I hadn't accessed in years. Suddenly my cousins and my siblings and I were sitting on the radiator below the picture window in the living room of my grandparents' house on Horton Road banging our feet against its loose cover, causing it to rattle, and then I was standing inside the entrance of St. Michael's Elementary School looking out at a desolate and empty and sad parking lot during a month in late winter and then Bryan and I were in bathing suits chasing ladybugs on the beach in the shadow of the fifty-foot bluff that held our family's cottage on Lake Michigan. So I guess the best way I can describe tonight's show is to say that it was the lovechild of a really intense therapy session and the end of the world. And no, I am not high right now.
Also, I typed a good many of the words above on the train ride home using my two thumbs and it's very late and I'm very tired and it's likely that I'll never strike it rich as a professional concert reviewer so kindly forgive the incoherence of this entry.