all this garbage


E.E.Espinoza ([email protected])
Mon, 30 Nov 1998 21:20:32 -0600 (CST)


on wednesday, november 25th, there i was, in front of
shirley manson, outside the riviera in chicago. ickle
one floats over to us, preceded and proceeded by three
thick security men, smiling, all combed up and made up,
movie star material, underneath the paint genuine
about something.

"she only has time to sign a few things!" snarls one of
the thick ones, and i'm just looking at her, trying to
figure out the best way to tell her i have an agenda.

"shirley!"

she smiles.

"jesus in a leather jacket....!"

uncertain, at first, she continues to smile, then she remembers,
or pretends to, and looks up briefly as she giggles.

"that's the best quote!....i completely agree....thank you!"

"thank you!" she smiles some more, signing away, posing for
pictures, asking us what we thought of the show. i go to
the back and watch 'cuz i feel my bones ache from the cold.

then minutes later, out comes butch vig, and. oh. hey.
no one told me *that* was butch vig....oh hey....hi! so i
go over and say, "the _dirty day_ remixes!"

"yes."

"do you know what i'm talking about?" i become uncertain
because he's got the aura of cool about him. he's dark
and young, and i can feel him pull.

"yes, of course," and he smiles.

"they are amazing....you....made the song....complete."
i've been wanting to tell him that since the "please"
single came out last year.

"thank you," he pauses, "not many people know about those".

i get a bit confused, not understanding that maybe he's
trying to give me something. "they're b-sides," i say
matter-of-factly, then can't take it back, so i ask for
a picture with him because there's susan a., fellow wireling,
with a camera in hand.

"come here, honey," and his arm lifts up and goes around
me. well, hey. :) but, shhhhhhhhhh, don't tell jesus
i've turned into peter 'cuz i'll deny it.

so that was it. the night before was depeche mode, a tired
giant, slowly making its way through song after song, fee
fi fo fum, pleading that it just can't get enough, maybe
even believing it. i bought a t-shirt.

patiently waiting in the off season,
elena
*************************************
We give everything a lot of thought.
                         Bono (1998)



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