Concerning The Night The Trains Conspired To Make Arriving In New York A Challenge To The Expectations And Other Tossed Salads

I'd been looking forward to this concert for some time. Usually, me and expectations don't sit well together; but, I knew this was going to be special.

I've avoided reading reviews of Sufjan Stevens's shows because I wanted it to be fresh, but info had trickled in about the scale of his band and the presence of wings. And when the lights dimmed and the string section walked out, wearing masks and butterfly wings and just sort of lingered over on stage right, I found myself tearing up. Before a note had been played.

Nisi was recovering from a nuclear meltdown courtesy of the F and G trains, Ryan had brought some drawings he wanted me to see, and Jeff was pulling out my old position papers on Shakespeare and David Hare. I had left the drawing pads and the cell phone at home and was feeling a little bit like a kid at Christmas, surrounded by friends and anticipating good things.

And I actually don't have a whole lot to say about it, because it all ended up in the drawing which I started in the morning, while Cordelia fussed about hair and makeup, and finished in the evening, while watching Studio 60 and the Daily Show.

But it was special and if you get a chance to see Sufjan Stevens, you should; he's doing something whimsical, significant and deep and it's like he's just getting started . . .