1. Ma says if you haven’t seen Florence + the Machine perform live then you’re not living or alive and you certainly don’t have the love. That is her opinion. But I kind of guarantee her point.
2. Last night ma and I saw Florence + the Machine perform at the Hardrock at Universal Studios and we got the love and her angel wings. We stashed them beneath our skirts so security couldn’t seize them from us–the rightful heirs of her angel wings.
3. Ma and I cried so much poetry during the concert, because we love Florence so much, we had to take a water taxi home. Florence said she loves us so much too. At least that is what she said at 10:49 PM. Ma and I floated home on the notes Florence left for us because she offered them to us like precious stones or the breath of a new-born baby angel.
4. Ma and I wore our best J.C. Penny rendition of a floral printed Laura Ashley dress with cream colored strappy sandals. My dress was white with islets and islands of chunky embroidered daisies. The center of each daisy looked like an egg yolk. Ma’s dress was white too, yet egg yokeless, but ma didn’t look as chunky as I suspected she would be wearing her Chuckie. Ma and I wore the halos we made for the show which we had strung together out of the artificial white daisies we borrowed from Target.
5. Actually, the daisies were real. The white was artificial. Officially.
6. When Florence appeared on stage, everything turned blue and disappeared except for the blue and Florence’s angel wings. Even the sound of her voice sounded like the bluest bluebird on Earth. The first song she sang was “My Boy Builds a Coffin” and that’s when I knew I would go home a different human and somewhat more better than I was before the concert began just like ma went home the same person she has always been, but sweatier.
I’m not sure Florence cured my grammar issues though. Thoughts?
7. Is it realistic to ask if god exists after witnessing Florence’s light?
8. When Florence said to raise it up, we did, and the whole world did too–at least the world contained within the blue blue room. We were momentarily and eternally blinded by a white light–Florence’s light. In that moment of blindness, we embraced each other as brother and sister. I thought I had seen a ghost but it turned out to be ma’s butt hurtling through space and timelessness. She had just performed a spontaneous asymmetrically designed cart-wheel. The crowed cheered for ma, and Florence did too. I’m just not sure if they were cheering for ma’s safe landing or her departure to the lady’s room where ma rearranged her thong and halo.
9. Sometimes when we raise our hands I get the sense there is a god or goddess (or a light of goodness) up there hovering about and laughing at us–laughing at the way we love and love to dance uncontrollably contained within the light shell of our bodies in the womb of the Hardrock’s Ballroom.
10. With my hands raised as high as my four feet can go, I’m not that tall, I grabbed on to that deity’s orange light and held on until he or she or they came down and danced with us.
11. “You’ve got the love,” I told the light. In manufactured silence, the light concentrated on the un-staged performance on stage.
12. “Watch this, ” ma shouted. And I watched ma fly through and into the light, the orange glow reflecting the pieces of me I see in her off of her face.
13. We were standing in the shadow of her heart and I took the stars from ma’s eyes and made a map. It looks like this:
15. A halo. Surrounded by cosmic hearts of light.