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Anyways, when I saw Voltaire, he was a random guy with dark hair and a goatee, sitting at a table, wearing all black, eating pizza, and writing something, who looked ever so vaguely familiar. There wasn't a crowd or anything; everyone was totally ignoring him. So I make my mom get up and go ask someone else who that was, because I am on the verge of a total nervous breakdown.
It was Voltaire.
So I sit there in my seat, gibbering weakly and occasionally pointing to the man who is still sitting there, performing actual human life functions like eating and writing, and taking absolutely no notice of the fact that he is existing in the same room as I. Mom nods patiently for a time, then forces me to get up and go and talk to him. To which I protest incoherently, with much hand gesturing. I got up and went eventually, and Mom had to start the conversation. He smiled, shook both our hands, and I kind of melted into a puddle or something.
But I got an autographed T-shirt, which I am now afraid to wash in case Sharpie actually comes off. And his concert was hilarious, though not exactly safe for the young or those without an open sense of humor. Funnily enough, one of the songs I didn't let my mom hear for fear she'd freak out was one she found hilarious.
She claims she found him "utterly adorable." (Which I find the understatement of the twenty-first century; when he shook my hand I told him I was "mildly obsessed," which doesn't cover the half of it. I am so in love with this man and his music, and his top hat, and his goatee, and his jokes... a lot of it's the hat. ^___^)
I might post the concert videos on YouTube, not sure yet. I don't want to put the picture up, because I'm not overly fond of putting pictures of myself online. Voltaire said that it was going on Myspace (had to show him how to use my camera), but I don't actually have one. (He didn't need to know that.) I don't LIKE Myspace (although I do stalk his, which he doesn't need to know either).
The only thing that annoyed me was that... okay, two things: that we got lost in the middle of New Jersey at 11:30 at night when I had to get up at 4:30 a.m. the next morning, and that my stupid new camera picked up the sounds closest to it first, so over Voltaire's awesomeness you have my horribly off-key voice singing along. I cannot sing. At all. Sigh.
It was Voltaire.
So I sit there in my seat, gibbering weakly and occasionally pointing to the man who is still sitting there, performing actual human life functions like eating and writing, and taking absolutely no notice of the fact that he is existing in the same room as I. Mom nods patiently for a time, then forces me to get up and go and talk to him. To which I protest incoherently, with much hand gesturing. I got up and went eventually, and Mom had to start the conversation. He smiled, shook both our hands, and I kind of melted into a puddle or something.
But I got an autographed T-shirt, which I am now afraid to wash in case Sharpie actually comes off. And his concert was hilarious, though not exactly safe for the young or those without an open sense of humor. Funnily enough, one of the songs I didn't let my mom hear for fear she'd freak out was one she found hilarious.
She claims she found him "utterly adorable." (Which I find the understatement of the twenty-first century; when he shook my hand I told him I was "mildly obsessed," which doesn't cover the half of it. I am so in love with this man and his music, and his top hat, and his goatee, and his jokes... a lot of it's the hat. ^___^)
I might post the concert videos on YouTube, not sure yet. I don't want to put the picture up, because I'm not overly fond of putting pictures of myself online. Voltaire said that it was going on Myspace (had to show him how to use my camera), but I don't actually have one. (He didn't need to know that.) I don't LIKE Myspace (although I do stalk his, which he doesn't need to know either).
The only thing that annoyed me was that... okay, two things: that we got lost in the middle of New Jersey at 11:30 at night when I had to get up at 4:30 a.m. the next morning, and that my stupid new camera picked up the sounds closest to it first, so over Voltaire's awesomeness you have my horribly off-key voice singing along. I cannot sing. At all. Sigh.
Some of the costumes were amazing; I saw a guy about my dad's age, complete with the same kind of beard and large glasses, in a full suit of chain mail. Plus a lot of women wearing either corsets or extremely huge bustiers, to the point where I wondered if they could breathe or even see their feet if they looked down. And a guy in a lot of black armor, with
a ram-horned helmet and a very real-looking metal sword sheathed on his back. (I stayed rather far away from him.)
Ah, while we're at it, here's a little video of Voltaire before his performance, making some faces at the audience (but I'll swear to anything you've got he was doing it at my camera). If you can't see it, there's a link to it (on my Photobucket) below:
http://s205.photobucket.com/albums/bb144/L
Anyways, today I received a package. I was hoping it was the Cthulhu plushie we entered to win at the Faire, but it was my new phone. Oh joy, rapture, and glorious day. I would have much preferred the plushie right now. Wah. But it's a nice phone, I suppose. Blood-red, and it can take pictures. Yeah, because unlike a lot of my generation? I can live without a phone. I hate text-messaging. All I need is my iPod, my Voltaire, and a good book.
Ah, and I just finished Candide by the Enlightenment-era Voltaire. He's a wonderful satirist in detailing war and its atrocities, and human nature. I may post some of my favorite passages later.
Well, I've got some work to do (we had to watch a video on WWI and now have to write about it. Only 1 page and double-spaced, but I hate World War I. And World War II, for that matter, and the extents of human cruelty they showcased. I'll hold off on the rants for now.), so yep, here's your resident Voltaire fangirl signing off.
Edit: Fixed it with LJ-Cut, so this doesn't melt your brain too much.
- Mood:
ecstatic - Music:Voltaire- Dead Girls
Comments
I could send you that picture sometime, I suppose. Do you check your college mail very often?