As I walked out of the Forum last night, I obsessed over the last few minutes that I had spent inside. There was something so strangely soothing and liberating to the act of chanting "Time goes by, so slowly" over and over at the top of my lungs. I had just seen Madonna's Confessions Tour, and the show closed out with a kick-ass "Hung Up". As the song neared its end, Madonna asked the audience to join her in singing that line repeatedly. Everyone, including my friend and I, took the orders with great pleasure, and the energy exploded into a sea of ecstatic dancing and gold mylar balloons.

As we walked out, my friend and I commented on the feeling that the ending had given us. She observed that we are always so consumed with how quickly things happen and how fast time goes by, that it was nice to be reminded that we really do have time. If anything, that thinking helped with getting out of the parking lot, which took almost 45 minutes. But, it was no stress, as I knew that this was a small blip on the radar of time, and I had one of my best friends there to make me laugh and a Madonna mix to make me groove. And of course, my high from the show.

The show.

It was good times. Seats that allowed me to be about a dozen feet from her occasionally.

Disco balls. Like A Virgin. Hot dancers. Substitute For Love.

I mean, really.


Like going to gay church. And in the end, like church, Madonna asked, "Have you confessed?" My friend had to confess that she actually liked the New York song that night, even though she could still hear the silly lyrics. I was left wondering what it was I needed to confess. I'm not so sure I like some of the answers, but time goes by too slowly not to be honest and open with your life.

In all, I really enjoyed the show. I am infatuated with the latest album, so getting to hear all of my favorites (Jump is the hottest) was a treat. The small acoustic set was exquisite. I could've done without La Isla Bonita, though the set and the dancing were beautiful. And as always, I loved all of the political, spiritual, and religious undertones, though I could have done without the cross and the crown of thorns. However I still do give her props for tackling such a powerful image. And I admire her boldness and the fearless nature with which she approaches everything. It's inspiring. And all this at 47.






I mean, really.






Looking back, I think on how much I have let this famous stranger into my psyche. How at 8 or 9, I used to watch her first tour on VHS over and over in the living room. How I cried when my parents wouldn't take me to the Who's That Girl? concert. How I squirmed watching Truth or Dare at the Universal Citywalk theatres with my dad a few rows behind me (I begged him not to sit with my friends and me.) How I took my entire family on Christmas Eve to see Evita at the Dome. And how I hitched a ride with a stranger to see her Drownded World Tour, slightly fearing for my life. That trip ended up entailing a drug deal, karaoke at a gay punk rock bar in Santa Cruz, and sleeping roadside somewhere between San Francisco and Los Angeles. For a concert.

Yeah, it's crazy. At times, perhaps a bit embarrassing. But she has become more than just music for me, and for many like me. She is a symbol of that fearlessness for us in our lives. A reminder to be daring, and to be ourselves. And to fit as much into our lives that we possibly can. Perhaps if we do slow down, we'll find time to enjoy things a bit more as well.












So I'm hung up.

What about it?