On some level, doesn’t all come back to your fifth grade self? In the fifth grade I was … we’ll say not popular and leave it at that. I remember standing against the fence on the playground and the popular girls, a couple of whom would go on to become members of the Sexy Seven in my high school, asked me what bands I liked to listen to. I think I said Alabama, or some other band that my parents were listening to at the time. They started laughing at me and maybe I started to cry. I was at the least very upset.
Last night I went to a David Gray concert with Wonder Boy, knowing that he really liked Gray but think inside that why were going to go see this One Hit Wonder. Apparently Gray is incredibly popular and no one told me. I mean damn! People were thrilled. I heard the people behind us arguing “This is number 5.” “No, its number 10!” referring to where certain songs fell on album lineups. The Hollister-clad girls next to Winder Boy kept bursting into inexplicable fits of giggles. In the line to the bathroom chi-chi people strutted their stuff. And me, in my jeans, sneakers and t-shirt, stood up against an imagined fence wondering what was going on.
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