there was a moment on last friday night when either a leaky ceiling or condensation from pipes caused a sparkly shower to rain down over matt nathanson and matt fish, who, absorbed in the song they were playing, did not notice the vague layer of smoke and steam emanating from the stage.

it was rock and roll alive, and it was the coolest thing i have ever seen.

who needs special effects?

saturday was perhaps one of the most memorable nights of my life. everything happened matter-of-factly, and before i knew it i had been escorted backstage into the dressing room of the one and only mr. nathanson. being backstage at a rock concert is sort of like being in a kitchen of a restaurant. you get the excited feeling that you have a special look at things before they are prepared. the room itself, all black leather and mirrors, was decidedly incongruous with matt, who sat cross-legged on the floor tuning his guitars. fish played the scales on the cello in the background. i presented matt with a copy of "the unbearable lightness of being," with my concert review article folded inside. the interview ensued without incident, beyond, of course, the fact that i fell madly in love with him every time he spoke. it seemed as if we were truly friends in that half-hour, and when i left it struck me that had time and place converged for us, matt and i could have been soulmates; yet it all seemed exceedingly normal.

until the show started, that is, and he played, as per my request, "then i'll be smiling." he opened the show with it, suggesting that he felt it was important to honor my request, especially since he rarely plays it to begin with. it then occurred to me that this meant that a rock star had been thinking about me. and then, he went on to play not one, but TWO u2 songs, after he and i had waxed poetic about the true mastery and genius of u2. later during the concert he finally noticed we were standing there, at the front of his v.i.p. section, and offered a thumbs up. i goofily waved, knowing that there will be little in life to top that moment. i shouted and sang myself hoarse, i closed my eyes and swayed to matt fish's cello. and the best part of it all was the promise of more, more, more.

the next day we drove back the other way (over 250 miles total on the weekend) to see them play a small sit-down venue. i eagerly snatched a second-row seat and once again was possessed by the music, but this day was not mine. although we did get a conspiratorial shrug from fish partially through the concert, matt seemed tired and a bit distracted.

all i wanted was one more hug, and to say thank you... and to tell him that my interview is getting a huge spread in the paper. but i didn't get the chance, we left too early. i came down to earth a bit, now matt wouldn't remember me, and who knows when the next time i would see him again would be? and what good did it do me to be in love with a rockstar, anyway? a married rockstar?

but then i thought about saturday night and how he must have been thinking of me just for a few minutes, anyway. and maybe he will read the book and remember me. and maybe that's enough.

"and if you ever get lonely you can just go to the record store and visit your friends."

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