I should be more excited than I am. In four-and-a-half hours, I will be at a Radiohead concert. Granted, in four-and-a-half hours I will still be a good hour away from hearing Radiohead play, but you get my point, I'm sure. I should be uber-jones'd, but I'm not.
I'm just sort of fine with it. Even though I forked over $75 for a ticket to a show featuring one of my favorite artists, I've kind of adopted this take-it-or-leave-it feel. You wanna go see Radiohead? Tonight? Yeah, tonight. Hmm... will we be back in time for CSI?
I get the impression that this is how older couples start to feel about sex.
Of course the last time I went (to Radiohead, not to sex) there was a hefty two-hour road-trip involved, starting in Fulton and heading East to St. Louis (hmm... is this a Radio-heading?). I sang along with every song except the one or two from The Bends (because I like Kid A Radiohead, not early Radiohead) and paid too much for a T-Shirt that I don't wear because it fits awkwardly. And now, to round things out, I will end this paragraph with one last parenthetical note (involving Radiohead).
Last time it was a religious experience. Not quite, but it was damned ceremonious. I came this close to putting the tickets in my safe deposit box, but then opted against. It was a Sunday show, and boy wouldn't it suck to not make it to the bank on Saturday morning, or to discover that this particular branch doesn't have Saturday hours. How excruciating would the next day and a half have been? But this time, I'm like "whatever". I'll go. I'll enjoy myself. I'll convince myself that it was more fun than I would have had spending another night playing Super Mario Galaxy with Abby. It's just hard to get excited about it, and I don't know why.