Last Night A Psycho Cougar Saved My Life

I am an old woman, named after my mother
My old man is another child that's grown old.
If dreams were lightning, thunder was desire
This old house would have burnt down a long time ago.

Make me an angel that flies from Montgom'ry
Make me a poster of an old rodeo
Just give me one thing that I can hold on to
To believe in this living is just a hard way to go

- John Prine, Angel From Montgomery

Last Saturday afternoon I had one of my most brutal pilates classes ever. I've started taking privates once a week, which was a decidedly good move. No more last minute cancellations, no more needing to worry about what my work day will be like. But a private is that much tougher because the teacher has you all to themselves. I think I'm certainly getting more out of these one-on-ones; more fatigue, more aches and pains, more clarity on how galactically out of shape I am currently. But it has also been a good lesson in not being so hard on myself.

I tend to be very impatient generally, most of all when it comes to my own progress with anything. If I'm not running a marathon, holding down three jobs and finding the cure for cancer, I feel like I'm slacking off. Pilates puts me right in the moment. It shows me exactly where I am. It also gives me a real feeling of progress because next week, the exercises are that much easier and I have much more awareness of my body.

Last Saturday my awareness was absolute. I felt like I could sleep for a week after class. It had been very intense and I was faced with the prospect of attending John Prine's concert at Massey hall that evening. I love John Prine, but I was just not into going. In addition, I'd had to pay Ticketmaster a $25 charge to salvage the tickets I had lost. I NEVER do that but they were nowhere to be found [actually, Ticketmaster also charged me again for the tickets but I'll deal with that later.]

So off we went to Massey Hall. I got the tickets reissued, [well a slip to hand over to the ushers really] and then we travelled to Little India on the east side of town. I never want to go to our usual buffet place again. Every time we go I end up feeling awful afterwards.

Now exhausted AND naseous, we headed back downtown for the concert, fully availing ourselves of my reserved parking spot for work. It was sweet. We parked and walked down to Massey Hall in not even 5 minutes.

And let me tell you, it was a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong climb up to the second balcony.

The crowd was as rowdy as I expected after having seen Prine previously at Convocation Hall. It's a little scary and a lot of fun all at the same time, sort of like that crazy uncle that shows up at family weddings. Part of you hopes he keeps his mouth shut. The other part of you sits in eager anticipation of whatever infamy he plans to visit upon this latest occassion.

Prine has quite a cross section of fans at any given show. There's stoners and drinkers [the 'down home' folks as I like to call them] old Folkies, uber Musicologists/Musicians - like The Marine, Along for the Riders - like me, and of course Psycho Cougars.

I refer of course to that woman of a certain age who at a Prine concert, takes it to the next level by getting absolutely hammered pre-show, applies enough hair spray to qualify as a one person fire hazard and whose shimmering pink lipstick blazes in all its fury against the backdrop of a salon engineered tan. The Marine also asked me to note that they had enough turquoise to raise the Inca dead. You know, good point Marine. Now that I think on it, I never checked for cowboy boots either. Damn.

We had two behind us who talked through the whole show like they were watching a video at home. One of them kept yelling out "Angels!" [for Angel From Montgomery] and when Prine started to sing it, she yipped and hollered like she'd just won at the casino. It was a little sad because it is such a poignant song, about a woman grown old who realizes she let all her dreams go because of fear. Somehow the emotional resonance of the song didn't seem to, well, resonate.

Despite this, Prine's show really lifted me out of my funk and I was really glad I went. I found myself on the verge of tears most of the night. Prine's songs are deceptively simple and really can pack an emotional whallop at times - well, in between the rantings of the Cougar Contingent.

At concert's end, we started heading out and I saw one of the women just as one of her compatriots yelled something about going out to drink more. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I'm not saying to not go out and drink. Lord only knows my exploits. But at the same time, there was something almost heartbreaking about seeing these obviously middle aged people acting like a bunch of school kids, as if they were pursuing some sense of their earlier selves. Maybe they have a greater sense of Angel From Montgomery than I could ever know.

Or maybe they just like to get hammered.

I don't know. But every once in a while, I see somebody who has arrived somewhere I know I don't want to go. And as much I can feel sad sometimes about the things I wanted to happen that didn't and that may still not, I know I'll be ok. I'll arrive at some state of realness. I'll be able to manifest in my external life some semblance of who I really am inside. What I don't want is to be older and avoiding the truth about my life.

To paraphrase Prine, to believe in that livin's just a hard way to go.