Tweedle-drums and Tweed-l-dy

How can you doubt he's the hippest president to roam planet Earth?

No matter how it's said over the years, the meaning's the same:

If a tree falls in the woods, and no one hears it, does it really make a sound?
If your weekend (or whatever) didn't appear on Facebook, did it really happen?

Tonight, I went to see one of the world's greatest bands play at Toronto's greatest venue. This statement is unarguable.

I went alone, finding a cheap deal on floor seats way past the sell-out date. Alone doesn't scare me - I'm a rare, semi-reclusive Gemini who enjoys being surrounded by people as much as I do being surrounded by emptiness - not that tonight was empty, Wilco's Jeff Tweedy and his band of brothers filled every inch of the room with something that sounded better than any record of theirs, a full spectrum of sound that was full of breaking intensity and steady serenity at the same time.

After nearly two hours of bliss, I left alone, the way I came, wanting to gush about the show's greatness and why it was so. Times like these, I think, I wish I could learn to like nicotine, to stand around and make talk with other social smokers. But a smoker I will never be, and as I walked away from Massey in my hazey daze, I tried to find another way to start a chat with another fan, to recollect the show - it's what I like to do to better engrave the show in my mind, to make it a more permanent memory in my scatterbrain. But no, why loiter, why intrude on a group chat, I thought. I came home to spill my last two hours in speedspeak to my roommate, only to find her fast asleep. Not knowing what to do, I poured myself one last drink and went on the patio - being across the street from the Hall has its benefits - and played voyeur to those leaving. I tried to eavesdrop from ten floors up, imaginary including myself in their post-concert convos. Here, now, I'm youtubing everything Wilco to assure myself, they were indeed as grand as I'd percieved. And I'm blogging, waiting for the first eager commenter to tell me yes, they enjoyed the show too and also thought the lead guitarist was strung out, Tweedy's honesty was adorable, the ticket was more than worth it. But I'm still not sure.

Yes, I fell in love again with Wilco. What I still can't figure out, though, is why I need someone to tell me that I should.