Go See "An Inconvenient Truth"!! It's REALLY GOOD!

The one time my family ever went to the beach together when I was growing up was a trip to the Indiana Dunes. I was probably seven or eight years old and it was my first trip to Lake Michigan. My teenage brother and sister were in the water, and so was I, enjoying the warmth of the lake.

There were dead fish floating in the water with us.

I picked up one of the fish and threw it at my brother. He is, or rather, he was, nine years older than me. Despite our age difference, he screamed like he was being murdered, jumped out of the water and ran to tell on me. My punishment was that for the rest of the afternoon, I had to sit on the blanket my mom had spread out on the sand. She was angry that I had thrown the dead fish in order to antagonize my brother. It was an awful thing for me to do. However, I never heard her express outrage that there were dead fish in the lake.

We didn't really wonder why there were dead fish floating in the lake. I think we just assumed that, you know, fish had short life-spans and it was a natural thing to have dead fish floating in the water with us.

Off in the distance, the smoke billowed from the steel mills and factories that were directly west, in Gary and Hammond, on the southern edge of the lake. We thought all the smoke looked cool. It billowed and puffed in lovely white and yellow-tinged clouds before dissipating into the air. Although we could barely see downtown Chicago through the haze, at the time, we didn't think anything of it. There was no link in our minds between pollution and those fish dying.

Now, I live in Los Angeles, smog-central. Here are a few things I've noticed about this place:

• As much as I'd like to think I can roll my windows down when I'm driving up and down the 110 Freeway, if I do, I get a headache.
  
  
• When I'm driving either East or West on the 105 and transition to the 110 North, the ramps are really high up in the air. When it's clear, there's a majestic view of downtown Los Angeles. The San Gabriel Mountains seem to go on for miles behind the skyscrapers. I only see that view after it rains or if there are really strong winds blowing off the ocean. Most days, I can't even see downtown until I'm approaching USC.
  
  
• There are days when I can't see the Hollywood sign from my backyard. My apartment building is half in Hollywood, half in Silverlake.
  
  
• I don't swim in the Pacific because there are copius amounts of trash floating in the water. It's browner than Lake Michigan, and it smells bad. Everyone I know who swims there gets sick. When it rains, they have to tell people not to get in the water for a few days because of "urban runoff" problems.
  
  
• My landlord is installing air conditioners in a building that used to not need air conditioners because it didn't get hot enough here in this part of Los Angeles.
  
  
• There's no real enforced recycling program in the City of Los Angeles. Or at least, if there is, it's optional. There are a couple of recycling bins out back by our apartment building dumpster, but if I forget to throw my Coke Zero can in the recycling thing, no one is tripping out. Ten years ago, I stayed with the lovely Leili Towfigh's family in Medford, MA and watched her family sort the recyclables. It was impressive. There were five or six different bins. I haven't seen something like that since then. Not in NYC. Not in Houston. Not in Chicago. Not here.

It's easier for me to think about all the things I absolutely love about Los Angeles instead of the fact that I try to pass the smog off as being the "marine layer". Of course, this issue is bigger than what we are doing here in LA. Despite what we're led to believe, it's bigger than the Brangelina baby being born today and being a top headline on msnbc.com.

I got home about 45 minutes ago from seeing "An Inconvenient Truth" over at ArcLight in Hollywood. It's a documentary featuring Al Gore's work that is also accesible through his book of the same name, and it's about what's happening to our environment, specifically, about the causes and effects of global warming. Maybe "good" isn't the right word to describe the film. Eye-opening. Shocking. Thought-provoking. Terrifying.

I didn't know before I saw this film that Lake Chad in Africa is almost gone. Dried up. If you are thinking it's a small lake, no, it used to be about half the size of Lake Michigan. Or, if you prefer, just imagine Lake Erie disappearing completely.

Or how about glaciers disappearing:

This is the Trift glacier in the Swiss Alps. The image, courtesy of the Swiss Academy of Sciences, is featured in the film. The image on the left is 2004. On the right, one year later, 2005. In case you think this is an anomaly, 84 of 91 glaciers retreated in Switzerland. Ski resorts in the Italian Alps are closing due to lack of snow. In the film, they don't just compare images of places from year to year, they show pictures of the Colorado River 30 years ago and then now.

Not enough for you? Oh, how about Greenland is melting. And both poles. As in the North Pole and the South Pole.

Regardless of whether you voted for the man or not in the presidential elections, whether you believe in global warming, or think it's an obsession for tree-hugging lunatics, I do think we all have the responsibility to independently investigate the truth and then judge whether Al Gore, and a boatload of scientists, are full of it.

Or not.

And it's that "or not" that is especially frightening.

Revelations

Have you ever had that feeling where you wonder and worry if you are revealing too much of yourself in the fiction you are writing? Here's the ending of one story I've been currently working on:

Now she rode in the front seat in a cat-suit get up, hiding her own secrets from him. He had seen the future as he shook Ricky’s hand. Ricky would tell her she was beautiful, that he loved her. She’d sleep with him, carve their names into a tree, and decorate her notebooks by drawing hearts around “Mrs. Nolan”.

When it was over, she would call him up to tell him that she should have known better. But he would never be the one she looked at with passion. And it made him angry. She really believed there would be no more Halloweens for them together.

He fingered the small rectangular box of matches in his pocket, took it out, and massaged the slickness of the cover. Opened it. Smiled. Heard Tina’s laughter in the distance and fingered the small wooden stick with so much power at it’s tip. He joined in with the laughter then. She would remember him forever.

It's dark. Ominous. Creepy. And I'm left to wonder...is that me? What does this say about moi? Is this who I am?

There's a part of me that worried so much about writing correct and proper things...I used to worry, what if my mother reads this and then decides that she's not going to speak to me anymore? What if someone from my past reads this and thinks that a character is based off of themselves...and then gets pissed off? I've had all these fears about hurting people's feelings and not wanting them to feel like I'm this sicko. When the truth is, I know I'm not some creepy person just writing about someone wanting to set someone else on fire. I just have seen a lot and heard a lot, both the good and the bad. How much of that do I censor?

When does something turn into the "prostitution of art and literature?"

Why I Adore Technology

For starters, technology enables this blog to exist. That's a huge reason to be grateful I wasn't born two hundred years ago. Oh, and the pesky fact that I would have been a slave.

The really big reason I'm loving technology is that today I bought my cd recording of the Depeche Mode show in Las Vegas.

How amazing is it that I can relive this show courtesy of Live Here Now. The company makes a recording of the show and sells it to fans. So for 21 British pounds, I can sing along with the live version of "Nothing's Impossible" and not just any live version, it'll be exactly what I heard at the concert! I'm a little concerned that you'll only hear everyone screaming, myself included, but I'm sure they must have had some special way of recording that minimizes the drama from the audience.

I love technology!

More Goodies For You

I'm still reliving my Depeche Mode experience in Vegas. I'm finding it hard to believe it was a month ago that I was standing in line in the parking lot of the Hard Rock waiting to see my FAVORITE group of all time! I only wore this shirt because my custom made DM shirt had not yet arrived!

They let us in and we got to walk up and hang out in front of the booth that was selling DM gear and also a bar made out of ice that was selling red bull. A man came along and scanned our tickets and then stamped our hands with this "Prince" stamp...Here's my hand and also the delightful Mr. Bolden's hand!They finally let us in and we ran up to the front rows of the general admission. I don't know if you can see the bleachers in back of us but I was SO worried we'd be back there where no one could see. You can tell from the side-splitting grin on my face that we were in great shape and super close to the stage!
Depeche Mode came and went so moving right along...here's me and Master Agrabah...
...and me and Olinga on Mother's Day. Are they sweet boys or what!
Finally, Olinga, the budding photographer, took this very nice picture of me and Elarryo! After we snapped these photos, we went to get Indian food at Electric Lotus in Los Feliz. I'm so lucky to have three sweet guys to look out for and love!

Ghetto High

A guy and girl got on the elevator with me this morning. He was telling her about how he was valedictorian of Ghetto High. They burst into peals of laughter, enjoying the shared joke. The comedy was infectious so I started laughing as well, even though I didn't know exactly what he was talking about. After the laughter trailed off, I asked him, "What's Ghetto High?"

He said that he likes to scare people who approach him in a superior and condescending manner because he is a young Latino male. "They assume I grew up poor and that I don't speak English." Once they find out that he was born in Los Angeles and does speak proper English, they try to figure out where to place him on the socio-economic scale.

"So, did you go to high school here in L.A.?" they ask. When he says, "Yes!" they say,"Oh, really, where did you go to school?"

He's now decided he's going to tell people he went to "Ghetto High" just to shut them up. He went on to add that even if he did grow up in a poorer area of the city, he worked hard and he ended up being valedictorian of his high school.

They got off the elevator and I continued my ride up to the 9th floor, contemplating how I knew exactly what he was talking about. There are some people in this world that don't care if you did well in school if you went to school in a poor area. If you are valedictorian of Crenshaw High or Locke High, folks ask themselves, "Well, how difficult could that have been?"

We are always searching for some way to make sure we are better than someone else or can put someone else in their place. I've heard folks make disparaging comments about people that got their degrees from Dominguez Hills or Cal State L.A. I guess folks figure that was a piece of cake, a walk in the park, and people must be somehow stupid or deficient in some way because they didn't go to a private university that cost $200K for four years of parties and lecturing.

I went to private universities and have the student loans to prove it. Does that make me smarter? More successful? Better looking? A better mother? I suppose in some spheres of influence it does. Straight A's do not equal straight A's in our world.

Hey Handsome!

I am always saying, "I'll post that picture on there later!" And then later never comes. So today, ladies and gents, I'm going to put up some pictures I've been meaning to post for awhile.
First off, Master Agrabah, our beloved Toussaint, is a crazy boy at parties. He's got "Future Frat President" written on his forehead.

Behold the two-year old skateboarder. Believe me, he has mad tricks.

Olinga continues to win awards for "Most Fashionably Dressed Child At Zoo". He picked this outfit out. No doubt.

And then of course, there was the Easter Egg hunt at dear Maisha J's house. Here's Olinga and Maisha's son, Louis. Olinga LOVES Louis. This was also after Olinga got another hair chop.

And of course, there's nothing better than the two handsome brothers on Mother's Day. How did I get so lucky?

Hush-Hush...Keep it Down Now

It must be something in the air. In the eight years I've been in this city, I've never seen it rain on May 21st. Yet, through my window, I hear the unmistakable hiss of rubber tires sliding across a rain-slicked road. I hear the pattering of rain hitting leaves and sliding earthward to gurgle along the sidewalk.

I've been hearing other things as well. No, nothing like that. I don't need some sort of medication for voices in my head. Or, at least not those kinds of voices.

My building is L shaped. I live on the short side of the L. On the long end of the L is a couple that moved in about six months ago. She's a twenty-something white woman with greasy brown hair. She dresses in that boho style (but without the word "chic" included), and posseses an air of lethargic depression. She smokes. In fact, we probably wouldn't know what she looks like at all except for the fact that we've passed her quite a few times when she's been outside, sitting on her steps, puffing away on cancer sticks.

He is probably bi-racial and is on the short side. He wears glasses and has a slight gap between his front teeth. I've only seen him three or four times, and he's always worn the eastside wannabe hipster outfit de rigeur: jeans and retro slogan t-shirt. Every time I see him, he seems nice, but there's something, a nervousness about him that makes me wonder. It makes wonder exactly what is going on with them. They are a couple that doesn't seem like a couple. I couldn't guess that the word love comes into play with them too frequently.

Anyone who's ever lived in an apartment building knows there's not really a ton of privacy. The soundproofing isn't so bad that you can hear through walls. You remember memories from college of some girl on the floor of your dorm screaming at two a.m, "Yes! Don't STOP!" Our walls are a bit thicker than that, but it's like that old Til Tuesday song...voices carry, especially when it's getting warmer and people are beginning to leave their windows up. Everyone can hear your business when your windows are up. At night it can be very quiet around here. Noises travel with the clarity of a church bell. This is not always a bad thing. I'm a writer so I like to eavesdrop on the stories and lives around me, listening to both the eloquence and distress of the human condition.

Last night, there was no eloquence to be found. This couple had a full-on argument that folks that live two blocks away probably heard. When Elarryo and I got home after 11 pm from the fabulous wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Tim Starke, we heard the beginnings of the argument. We eavesdropped for awhile. But, by midnight we had grown tired of the ongoing back and forth of the argument. There were only so many times I could hear her shout, "I hate you, you f-ing asshole" before I grew bored. Plus, we couldn't figure out what they were fighting over.

-There was no, "I saw you out with ___! Don't even try to deny it." So it seemed cheating was out as a reason.
-I didn't hear her say, "How could you spend our money on that, you jerk!" So money was out.
-"We haven't had sex for six months!" Nope, didn't hear any talk of sex at all.
-Nor did we hear, "You are such a slob! You leaves dirty dishes all over the place!"

So what were they fighting about? I stopped caring and went to snuggle on the couch to watch Mr. & Mrs. Smith. As an aside, can we discuss the sheer level of magnetism between Brad and Angelina?

I'll say it again, Jennifer Aniston clearly didn't have a chance. And, if there wasn't a spiritual commitment between me, Elarryo and God regarding the sanctity of our marriage, we both agree that we'd each be trying to leave the other for Angelina.

After a certain point, all the cussing next door ceased and I figured someone must have either stormed out...or they were having the mythical "make-up sex" -- which I never understand since I can't figure out how you cuss someone out and then fifteen minutes later...but I digress.

Fast forward to nine-o-clock this morning. That's right folks, louder than ever: the shrieking, the cursing, the throwing of objects, the slamming of doors, the threats, the demands for the other to, "Pack your stuff and get out!" I hung my laundry on the line outside while debating whether or not someone needed to go tell them to just break up and be done with it. My neighbor that lives underneath me came outside and was contemplating calling the police. She was very distressed by the whole thing. She was worried about the "inappropriateness" of the argument and that domestic violence was taking place.

This led me to this very interesting question...I was annoyed by them being so loud. I thought they were engaging in alot of unecessary drama and hysterics. Sure they were inappropriate. But I realized I was seeing the whole situation as more of a curiousity than anything. Chances are, no one woud get murdered and chances are, we'll see them holding hands in a week. Elarryo pointed out to me that if most times, if you grow up in a household with alot of drama, with alot of yelling and carrying on, then you develop a numbness to it, a hardness that you have to work against.

Finally, we heard a final, "F#$& You!" from her and heard a door slamming. The neighborhood was once more quiet in it's sleepy Sunday morning haze. Until tonight. This time, our neighbors across the hall were going at it.

It has to be the rain. Or rather, I'd like to think it's the rain. The truth is, of course, so different. So many relationships are like a house of cards... you pull one thing, if one thing goes wrong, the whole thing falls apart.

I'm going to go get some rest...sleeping on a rainy night is a treasure this late in the year in Southern California. Perhaps the rain will wash away the unpleasant residue of the harsh words that have been said.

Fire

I'm really obsessed with this story I'm working on and I have to finish it by tomorrow. Unlike most things I write, I don't actually think it's a horrible piece of work. Of course, that probably means that it IS a horrible piece of work!

A fire plays prominently in the story. This is fun because I'm absolutely terrified by fire. And therin lies the fun.

Hey Mamas!

Hope every mother out there has a great day today! And give some extra love to your children...they are the reason you are a mother!

This is SO LA!

Occassionaly I putter around craigslist to see all the cool posts/things that are happening out here in the world and I came across this gem that really just exemplifies the spirit of a certain portion of this City of Angels:

"Actresses Needed for Diet Center: "I have several openings for young, fit, outgoing, and personable FEMALE actresses!"

I need a receptionist who might have to ACT impressed or surprised by the progress someone has made. I also need a medical assistant (I would train you) who would weigh patients, help with treadmill tests, etc. and ACT encouraging and optimistic.

This is a very legitimate operation: I am a board certified young female medical doctor and I offer 10 different diets that I believe in and supervise patients on with monthly blood, ekg, and treadmill tests. I need receptonists and assistants who would be enthusiastic, upbeat, and optimistic (and this might require acting from time to time). I want it to be a fun, relaxed environment that patients look forward to visiting and you would set the tone/mood.

You will be involved with marketing and should feel comfortable approaching overweight businessowners/professionals/executives and giving away coupons for free diet services with us."

Oh this is just too much!! You have to hire actresses for this!! Out of control!!

"Your Days Shall Pass"

I got home from my writing class at around 10:30 and I can't sleep. For the past three hours, I've been cleaning the house, checking on Dave Gahan's health (he has laryngitis), reading about conspiracy theories (Marilyn Monroe's death) and the life of one of my favorite authors, Richard Scarry, and doing a bit of blog-surfing. I'm interested in what else is out there. What are other people thinking and dreaming about? I find that the more I write, the greater my interest in what others are writing about. Since I am also a reknowned stress-ball, I've also been thinking about how many things I have to get done at work, how I don't really want to go to work at all tomorrow, how I couldn't find a Mother's Day card I liked for my mother, and how I am feeling this great need for change, but sometimes I stand so close to the wall, I can't see the whole picture.

One of the blogs I came across was by a lovely young lady living in Italy. Lo and behold, this young lady also happens to be a Baha'i. (It's a small world after all!) She has some absolutely lovely postcards on her site that I really hope she mass-reproduces. I also clicked on a few of her links and came across another Baha'i's blog that had some beautiful quotations from the Baha'i sacred writings, as well as some artwork. One quotation that particularly struck me was this one from the Gleanings From the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh:

"Night hath succeeded day, and day hath succeeded night, and the hours and moments of your lives have come and gone, and yet none of you hath, for one
instant, consented to detach himself from that which perisheth. Bestir
yourselves, that the brief moments that are still yours may not be dissipated
and lost. Even as the swiftness of lightning your days shall pass, and your
bodies shall be laid to rest beneath a canopy of dust. What can ye then achieve?
How can ye atone for your past failure?"

I about fell off my chair after I read that quote. God is trying to tell me something! I'm always saying this to myself. I need to listen more. I need to open my eyes and ears. Now I'm going to bed feeling as peaceful as this looks:

Mother's Day Dilemma

I'm in the Starbucks on Gage and Compton Ave and the conversation between two employees is currently going something like this:

Girl A: What are you getting you moms for Mother's Day?
Girl B: I'm not getting her nothin'!

Liz is thinking, "Whoa, she's mean!" But I also hope she keeps talking! Please elaborate! I want to know why!

Girl A: What? Are you serious? You broke or something?
Girl B: Nope, I'm not gettin' that bitch nothin' because she's cheating on my dad!
A: For real?
B: Yep, I caught her in the act. The ho! She's wiping down the counter with a bit of extra vigor.
A: You caught her in the act? Like actually doing it? A customer has approached! Hi, What can I get for you?
B: Yep. Doggy style and everything.
A: What? Does your dad know? To the customer: A venti hot tea? One bag or two? Would you like something to eat with that?
B: I wanted to tell him but I'm scared. Everybody else in my family knows though. She moves to fix the tea.
A: She hands the tea to the customer. That'll be $1.71 please. If they know, anybody else say anything to him?
B: My grandma did, but my mom just said she was tryin' to break them up, as usual.
A: Wow. That's deep. Girl, that's just drama! She gives the receipt to the customer. Thank you, have a nice day.

Indeed. The customer seems unperturbed by hearing the sordid details of this affair. I'm inspired to write them down here! Okay then. This begs the question, if you know your mom is not being a good wife, does that automatically X her out of deserving Mother's Day cards?

A Lawsuit Waiting to Happen

I wasn't too sad when we had our bus driver strike a couple of years ago. Sure, I felt bad for all of the people who couldn't get work. On the flip side, I am constantly trying to avoid being side-swiped by bus drivers that drive all over the road and do their best to jump the curb when I'm waiting to cross the street. During the bus strike, I was never afraid I was going to be hit by a bus. Of, course, today, I could easily have been at the Rite Aid in downtown, only a few blocks from my job when this bus decided to crash into the building.

There are clearly some very happy Angelenos tonight. Thank goodness, no one was killed but you KNOW some folks are gonna sue the city over this. I know I probably would!

I'm still not over Vegas and Depeche Mode

Somebody sent me a link today to this quizilla site where I can take quizzes to find out which Depeche Mode member I am, which album, etc. It's not a shocker to find out that I'm the man with the angel wings...

Which Member of Depeche Mode are you?

I'm Martin Gore! Aw, that's so sweet.


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"Four is the perfect number for a pop group. Five is too many and three just looks stupid". Martin L. Gore 1985

Life in Los Angeles feels so...normal today. I got up and dressed myself in my new DM track jacket and set off for an internal day at the office. The morning was long and the afternoon felt even longer. There was so much hard thinking going on around me about what exactly it's going to take to close the achievement gap. So many furrowed brows and minds visibly whirling. After coming back from the Depeche Mode concert in Las Vegas, I was a bit underwhelmed by the minutia (and subltle arrogance) of it all. But I'll admit, when I joined Teach For America almost ten (oh snap!) years ago, I would get really annoyed when people would say, "This is going to be the most amazing experience of your life." Ahem. No, up to that point, going to see Depeche Mode in concert was in my top two. My number one was living in China.

All day today I found myself smiling, thinking about Dave singing "A Question of Time" with that clock in the back behind him running down to zero. These lyrics felt incredibly fitting with today's momentous events:

"It's just a question of time

It's running out for you

It won't be long

Until you do

Exactly what they want you to"

Dave introduced Fletch by saying, "All the way from Basildon, Essex.... Mister Andrew Fletcher!" In case you don't know, Fletch is on the right, and Peter (back-up keyboards) is on the left.

Now, Fletch is the epitome of a middle aged white guy, but he's still rocking it! How many of us will still be living our dreams when we are in our forties? How many of us will start living our dreams today? Courage, people. Courage. And a special shout out to Arod for living her dream and going to Spain. Speaking of dreams, it was surreal to be driving back to L.A. yesterday and be re-living the concert while hearing all about the May 1st "Day without an immigrant" marches and protests. Hmm...the only ones of us who technically aren't immigrants are Native Americans and Black folks. I mean, they were here already and we were forced to come here. So, should all the folks of Irish descent across the country have taken the day off? I mean, my relatives on my dad's side were immigrants. They just came through Ellis Island and all that good stuff. I told someone today that I'm going to immigrate to France. Bomb-ass vacation policies over there...and for real, can a sistah get a break?

Oh, where was I before I began thinking about immigration? Oh yes, I was reliving the really important things in my life, namely, the Depeche Mode concert.

I really can't remember which song this was in but Dave and Mart were so in harmony with each other. It was so poetic and full of feeling. I would have waved my arms along with Dave, but I was so smashed between other people, I couldn't move my arms much at all! I have lots more photos to post but I'll look through and publish them tomorrow!

Bright Lights...Dark Room

Ladies and gentleman, I present to you, the man with the wings, Mr. Martin L. Gore." And the crowd goes absolutely bananas. Myself included.
Anticipation is such a sweet thing, and now, after months of unadulterated dreaming and imagining, my Las Vegas-Depeche Mode experience has come and gone. General Admission/Standing Room Only worked out very well for us. We ended up being up in the 3rd to 5th row back, depending on pushing and shoving. Someone passed out from exhaustion...we moved a little closer. Someone vomited all over themselves...we moved a little closer. I was close enough to actually be able to take pictures with my camera and have them turn out fairly well! Martin perfomed "Home" and "Blue Dress" which were both astoundingly amazing. I've never been so close to the stage that I could see him actually strumming the guitar with his black-painted fingernails....see both his and Dave's eyes and eyeliner without the aid of those gargantuan screens...and blow Fletch kisses and have him actually smile at me! Here's the interesting thing: when you are that close, you lose any awareness of those screens.

I should back up and tell you all: Elarryo and I left Kye's house and drove to the Hard Rock at around 3:00 in the afternoon. We parked at the Alexis Hotel, right across the street and went to line up. There were maybe 60 people in line before us. Not too bad. We had a great time talking to folks while we were waiting in line. Shout out to Tabitha, 1/2 black and white and is married for two years...Liz, who's Persian and exploring Zoroastrianism, and Travis, who hates the Bears! They were good people and they helped the time pass! At around 5-ish, they let us move to a holding pen where we could use the port-a-potties...not bad when they haven't been used AT ALL yet. Elarryo bought us some Red Bull and before you know it, I was reenergized! Then this freakish fifteen minute windstorm popped out of nowhere...the sky turned black and the wind started blowing so hard, the port-a-potties started moving. Fortunately it ended just as quickly as it started. While we were waiting to get in, Elarryo bought me the super-cool track jacket, so now we each have one. And finally, it was time to go in, at around 6:45.

She Wants Revenge opened at 7 and were a bit underwhelming. They weren't bad. It's just that they played it so cool. They all looked bored. What can I say, they're from Los Angeles. They haven't learned yet that you can't just step on stage and scowl. Justin Warfield, their lead singer, lectured the folks viewing the concert from their hotel rooms on their being worse than downloaders. "You should be down here with these people who paid to see Depeche Mode."

After SWR ended, the owner of the Hard Rock came out and said Depeche Mode was his favorite band. (Because they sold out the place.) Then we had twenty minutes of getting to listen to Mart's excellent pre-show dj set and having these ridiculous bimbos try to hustle their way to the front, "Oh, excuse me, I'm just trying to get to my brother up there." Yeah right, there was no way anybody was gonna get by us. In the meantime, I had a great time talking to some other lovely ladies from Los Angeles and we all screamed like crazy when the band finally walked out on stage. I found myself wondering, aren't the boys just a bit tired of wearing the same outfits for the past six months? I mean, Mart's still wearing his weird hat, the black leather skirt over the pants and the black wings. Not that I mind...I absolutely love the look, but I wonder if he's tired of it.

Dave is still wearing his gear from the clothing company... I suppose it's different if you only wear it on stage. But I digress...the show absolutely ROCKED. Again! Not a surprise there. I LOVED that they played "Nothing's Impossible". Absolutely beautiful. In the first encore, Martin performed "Blue Dress" which was a complete tear-jerker. They also played "Photographic"...Dave intro'd it by saying, "This was the first song we recorded!" And then it jumped off from there. They were clearly enjoying playing it and it was a telling moment in the crowd...the die-hard fans (like moi) knew the lyrics and were going nuts. The polite fans, like my husband, listened and rocked along. The fake-fans used that moment to text message someone to brag that they were at the show.

And so, this chapter of Modeness is beginning to draw to a close...I have been a fan of DM since I was eleven. I feel like they've always been there, through almost every momentous stage of my life. If everyone I knew wouldn't have been absolutely horrified/scandalized, I would have had "Strangelove" as my first dance at my wedding. Seriously, I'd like to have "Home" played at my funeral...but let's all hope that's years in the future!

It's been a fantastic trip and the show was pure magic (even if my feet hurt like hell!) and I thank God for giving me the $$ and the time to see the boys from Basildon once more.