dear diary, i went to see jamie cullum last night
the only time words feel senseless is when one is faced with live jazz. it's like the implausible fleshing out of impossible particulars. a piano, a bass, a drum set. here are your chords, this is your beat. go. it's entirely transient. nothing like it will take place again. it's like magic.
transience. the thing about live concerts is the irrepressible sense of loss - all the new thinking is about it - the moments ebb, flow, dissipate; each second is a tragic falling-off from an irretrievable perfection. frantic minds race towards CDs, DVDs; hands move inexorably to cameras, mobile phones. anything to capture, possess, to lock the moment in some senseless shadow thereof, to revitalize flawed memories staggering under the weight of constituting a life.
and 'senseless shadow thereof' is what this post has become, so, uh, I'm going to stop. the concert was, like, awesome. yea.