you left to find a better reason than the one we were living for

I just got an email titled "Enlarged Rod for Ernie," so I figured this might be a good time to tell you that I saw Bruce "Brucey" Springsteen at Madison Square Garden on Wednesday, October 17th.

I went with my old college pal BC. We saw Bruce together back in September of 1992 at the World Music Theater in Tinley Park, Illinois. We were young then-- although maybe old before our time -- and the show was pretty great. It featured an incredible final encore after the house lights had come on and half the people had left. Bruce suddenly came running out and played a hilarious version of "Working on the Highway," grabbing a fan's baseball cap and pulling it down over his forehead like a complete dork. It was unforgettable. BC and I had made our way right up to the front of the stage and had a great view of it all.

I remember that people were bungee jumping in the parking lot that night, too. It was the height of the three year heyday of bungee fever, between its sudden rise and its inevitable demise. It was an interesting time, 1992. We were already laughing at Hypercolor clothing but still hadn't thrown away our pastels or shaved our Armon Gilliam flat-tops. It was an innocent time, an exciting time to be alive. Brett Favre had just taken over as the Green Bay QB and people were using the word "Grunge" with straight faces. I'd go back in a second.

But let's face it, the bulk of the songs Bruce played that night in 1992 came off his shittiest albums of all, Human Touch and Lucky Town. A lost, hopeless period of utter crappification. I will defend Bruce to the end and I probably defended those albums then but enough time has passed that I can look at them now as the forgettable hackwork that they are. And the touring band wasn't his old cronies The E Street Band but rather a bunch of hired guns (including, I think, one of the dudes from Toto) who were kind of annoyingly professional all night. I guess I probably had a few beers and let BC make the drive back up to Madison sober while I chattered away next to him.

I saw Bruce again -- solo acoustic on the Tom Joad tour in the mid-90's, but that wasn't the experience I was looking for, either. It was cool, and me and cW ran into A. Pappas at the P & G afterwards, but it wasn't the E Street powerhouse extravaganza I'd heard so much about.

So this show fulfilled all of my Brucely desires -- although he's pushing 60, it wasn't like a big old crusty nostalgic joke or anything. The songs sounded great, Bruce was energized, hilarious, charming, goofy, and self-deprecating. There was a moment where he and Steve "Silvio" Van Zandt were exchanging parts on a guitar solo --when I thought about how great it must feel for those two guys, who've known each other for like 40 years, to still be out there, doing the one thing they love best, together, and doing it front of 20,000 people to boot.

And there I was, 15 years later, still watching him, with my same good friend. Brett Favre still playing grabass in the bars of the Fox River Valley. I would like to see what Armon Gilliam looks like right now.

LifeNotes:

-The audience at Bruce kinda bummed me out for some reason. Not their behavior, they were totally into it and supportive and dancing in the aisles and singing along when cued to do so. More their appearance. Maybe it was because I didn't have time to stop for a beer, but whatever the case I felt pretty self-conscious -- kind of ashamed to be a part of this crowd for some reason. They were dancing so poorly, and they were all so old and unattractive, and they were so unapologetically fired up about it, it made me sad. Sad for them for being so uninhibited, sadder for me for being unable to cut loose. And ashamed of being judgmental towards other people just because they were having fun. I felt like a dick but I couldn't help it.

-I liked the show a lot, but absent were all my favorite songs -- if he had played For You, Incident on 57th Street, or Atlantic City, I would have felt complete. He did do a great version of Brilliant Disguise, so I guess I can't complain.

-Best new song: Livin' In the Future. Pretty generic title and it's kinda just a slightly modified version of 10th Avenue Freeze Out but it's supercatchy and clever and it has one of the best choruses he's ever written:

Don't worry Darlin', now baby don't you fret
We're livin' in the future and none of this has happened yet


Pretty good.

-Now, more than ever before, I hate the Red Sox Nation and I resent the satisfaction they must be feeling. However, I don't really hate this particular team. I like Papelbon's ridiculous dance, I like Youkilis and Ortiz and most of the other guys aren't too offensive. I do hate Schilling, though. It would have been great to see him fail.

So fuck you, Red Sox Nation (especially for calling yourself "Red Sox Nation"). It's war next year.

-My best goes out to pbdotc as he navigates the unscheduled and unstructured world of Indefinite Hiatus. I think he's gonna like it just fine.

-The NBA's here, and I will be excited for at least 48 hours. After that, the Knicks' plodding incompetence will start to get to me. Let's all just root for Phoenix. Last weekend I played hoops with the Southern dude who does the pushups. He hadn't played in a couple of years, he said. Wouldn't you know it, the guy's a monster. All over the court, playing every aspect of the game properly and beautifully. That always gets me -- people who love basketball less than I do but are so much better at it than me. Someday I will be really good at something.

-PoCho Pete, the engagement period is always anxious, there is probably part of you that is like, WTF am I doing, get me outta here. And I would never offer advice about whether to go for it -- everybody's situation is so different. But I agree with Deion -- there is a tranquility that I have felt since getting married that I never felt beforehand. Like I am part of something and even when I screw up a little bit, I'll still be a part of it tomorrow. My only advice: go have some unprotected anonymous bathroom sex with strange men now. This is the time -- it won't get any easier. And you'll kick yourself if you miss out on it. Best of luck.