bright eyes perversity (ps- leave your mother at home)

i must have missed the news that Bright Eyes is no longer for us hardened indie "we have been here so long we have babies named after Conor" people. apparently, mr.oberst is the big teen beat. when did this happen? i was unaware. and i was stunned by the number of highschool kids, kids with curfews, kids with backpacks, kids who brought not only their backpacks and their date but their mother to the concert. their mother! who frowned and clutched her bag and gave my naughty cleavage piercing dirty looks (which it deserves, granted...but this is hardly the vennue to be reminded of that)

on this note, i would like to take a moment and clarify one thing:
if you bring your mother/chaperone to a concert you should cower in shame towards the back and not hog our delicious, sexy, conor-feasting, general front stage area.

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dear kid,

your mother completely blew my conor mojo with her dancing and frowning to "lover i don't have to love". which is not his best song, ever, believe it or not.

sincerely, myself.
ps- your little, asian girlfriend was scoping the place for hotter guys. just a heads up there.
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i have pinpointed the artery of my distress. the throbbing, bursting artery of distress. i tumbled into a happy music/listener relationship with Mr.Oberst when i was sixteen. and he is a year or so older, so let us take this to the max and say he was eighteen at the point of our merger. now, most of the girls there were sixteen, saying "oh my god, he is so cute!". really, word for word. you know these words. you have heard them. you hate them. you hate me repeating them. well they were said. and conor is now 25. and i am 23.

sixteen year olds (who are obnoxious and stricken with the worst emo-teen Down Syndrome equivalent) pining after him... it just feels perverse.