![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deadlightsgirl The best part was that I spent the evening in the company of my two shutterbuggy friends, so hopefully there will be pictures to go with this story soon.
My teenage friends have been knelling about Amanda Palmer to me for ages, but I had yet to listen to any of her stuff, and once this Housing Works thing with her and Neil (whom she has apparently been dating for months, and I am happy to report that she is worthy of him and they make an exceedingly cute couple. No, he is not married anymore) got scheduled and I was bought a ticket by the wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kinravip , I decided to wait to experience her in person. Glad I did, because the best part was that not only is she a helluva performer, she is a lovely human who signed a book for Gracie as a fellow fan of Naked (Amanda has friggin amazing legs, among else). I was showed off to her by L. and my tattoo was showed off to her by Neil. At L.'s urging, I gave her a cat pin. She gave me a hug. I also gave cat pins to her billion teenish interns, all with excitingly coloured hair.
She sang songs, he read bits from the not-released-in-the-states-yet book, "Who Killed Amanda Palmer?" (which is stunning, and features not only several pictures of Naked Dead Amanda, but at least four pictures including one of the naked ones, taken by my lovely teenage friend L -- that'sfairytalevegas to you nice folk, go drool at her website sometime.), plus a brand-new story no one has ever heard before, and during their Q&A, we all got to see him Have An Idea and jot down notes for a potential new thing to write. If he comes out with a story having to do with collectors of living statues, I was there.
I don't know if they had always planned for a signing to be part of the event. I only found out about it like two days prior, and that was via the grapevine of Amanda's PA. But sign they did, and I, having experience in these matters (plus a far-back starting position) was near enough the back of the line that we got some extra lurking/chitchat time in. He still gives the best hugs ever, signed a book forscreamingdolai , now knows that she wants to eat his heart to gain eternal youth and beauty, and then handed me to some terribly pleasant woman who asked me lots of questions about his wonderfulness and wrote down what I said. It was only after she was close to done that it occurred to me to enquire as to her interest. Turns out I had just given an interview to The New Yorker, piece on Neil to hopefully be appearing sometime in the fall. Shiny. L., who was lurking and taking pictures to beat the band, asked Neil if he had ever gotten a picture of him and my tattoo. He somewhat gleefully said "why NO", and we spent a couple of giggly (well, me giggly) minutes in flash-land while I stood there grinning like a baboon and he did cute pokey snurfle-y things to my shoulder which I couldn't really see. At one point, I foofed his hair, a thing I have secretly wanted to do for ages. It is very foofable.
He squeed at Gracie's school photo, said oh my god she is not allowed to be FOUR already, marvelled that he and I have known each other almost a decade (it was then stated by R. that this means I can no longer lie about being 26. Eh, whatever...I'm only as old as4evernight thinks I am), and then R, L, and I shared a cab up to Port Authority to catch terribly late buses (a train in R's case), continue making squee noises to each other about the many and varied awesome of the evening. Totally worth the cranky that my body is with me today from all the walking around in the rain (my day also involved a doctor's appointment and tea with the lovely K, featuring an only slightly damp walk through the park).
PS -- the book I got Amanda to sign for Gracie which had nothing whatsoever to do with her was this book featuring pictures of dogs. The text for each dog was something like insane profound performance art. Here is my favourite page as an example, and suggests we all have an inner dog...
Mr Beefy (who is a pug) -- I am not thin but I am beautiful.
When no one is looking, I steal tubs of butter off the table.
I take them to the basement to eat in private.
Once I ate a PIE.
My teenage friends have been knelling about Amanda Palmer to me for ages, but I had yet to listen to any of her stuff, and once this Housing Works thing with her and Neil (whom she has apparently been dating for months, and I am happy to report that she is worthy of him and they make an exceedingly cute couple. No, he is not married anymore) got scheduled and I was bought a ticket by the wonderful
kinravip , I decided to wait to experience her in person. Glad I did, because the best part was that not only is she a helluva performer, she is a lovely human who signed a book for Gracie as a fellow fan of Naked (Amanda has friggin amazing legs, among else). I was showed off to her by L. and my tattoo was showed off to her by Neil. At L.'s urging, I gave her a cat pin. She gave me a hug. I also gave cat pins to her billion teenish interns, all with excitingly coloured hair.She sang songs, he read bits from the not-released-in-the-states-yet book, "Who Killed Amanda Palmer?" (which is stunning, and features not only several pictures of Naked Dead Amanda, but at least four pictures including one of the naked ones, taken by my lovely teenage friend L -- that's
fairytalevegas to you nice folk, go drool at her website sometime.), plus a brand-new story no one has ever heard before, and during their Q&A, we all got to see him Have An Idea and jot down notes for a potential new thing to write. If he comes out with a story having to do with collectors of living statues, I was there.I don't know if they had always planned for a signing to be part of the event. I only found out about it like two days prior, and that was via the grapevine of Amanda's PA. But sign they did, and I, having experience in these matters (plus a far-back starting position) was near enough the back of the line that we got some extra lurking/chitchat time in. He still gives the best hugs ever, signed a book for
screamingdolai , now knows that she wants to eat his heart to gain eternal youth and beauty, and then handed me to some terribly pleasant woman who asked me lots of questions about his wonderfulness and wrote down what I said. It was only after she was close to done that it occurred to me to enquire as to her interest. Turns out I had just given an interview to The New Yorker, piece on Neil to hopefully be appearing sometime in the fall. Shiny. L., who was lurking and taking pictures to beat the band, asked Neil if he had ever gotten a picture of him and my tattoo. He somewhat gleefully said "why NO", and we spent a couple of giggly (well, me giggly) minutes in flash-land while I stood there grinning like a baboon and he did cute pokey snurfle-y things to my shoulder which I couldn't really see. At one point, I foofed his hair, a thing I have secretly wanted to do for ages. It is very foofable.He squeed at Gracie's school photo, said oh my god she is not allowed to be FOUR already, marvelled that he and I have known each other almost a decade (it was then stated by R. that this means I can no longer lie about being 26. Eh, whatever...I'm only as old as
4evernight thinks I am), and then R, L, and I shared a cab up to Port Authority to catch terribly late buses (a train in R's case), continue making squee noises to each other about the many and varied awesome of the evening. Totally worth the cranky that my body is with me today from all the walking around in the rain (my day also involved a doctor's appointment and tea with the lovely K, featuring an only slightly damp walk through the park).PS -- the book I got Amanda to sign for Gracie which had nothing whatsoever to do with her was this book featuring pictures of dogs. The text for each dog was something like insane profound performance art. Here is my favourite page as an example, and suggests we all have an inner dog...
Mr Beefy (who is a pug) -- I am not thin but I am beautiful.
When no one is looking, I steal tubs of butter off the table.
I take them to the basement to eat in private.
Once I ate a PIE.
