|Annie Clark's Disembodied Head|
I had a wonderful view behind seven foot tall twins that resembled such:
|I Grew Accustomed to this Head, to BOTH OF THEM|
Except picture TWO OF THESE HEADS in front of you, TWO OF THEM.
Bobbing up and down to Annie Clark's beautiful Disembodied Head.
To my right, there was a young couple, experiencing the joys of new love. Picture a longing, desperate kiss against the Sun, setting on the horizon.
Except that there was no horizon.
We were at a concert. At the Metro.
|I had a comfortable position in the back of the back!|
And they made the same, lovely kiss throughout the night. All night. At the concert. Next to me.
|Annie Clark, Rock-Goddess!|
And then there were other songs that I liked and listened to, standing, in the crowd. With a bunch of other people. Um...what else? What else? From what I could see over the:
It looked like Annie Clark's Disembodied Head was enjoying herself and the audience. She said she loved Chicago. Fucking loved being here. Any time she said 'fuck' the audience went crazy. Like it was a cue.
Well I fucking loved Annie Clark's Disembodied Head. I would fucking see her perform with other parts of her body involved. Like her arms. Or maybe some torso. I would fucking love to see some fucking torso next time!