Hearts of stone

I’m a late fan, I’ve seen my first Bruce show when I was 28. I’m not that ignorant at all about music, it’s just that I had some holes in my education… big holes, allright. And then he came into my life. No, not Bruce: my man. He arrived and placed himself in my heart. And he’s a Bruce fan. He tried with the regular Springsteen education, Listen to this one, read the lyrics, just to see me pout and say Naa, I really don’t like this one. He dedicated some songs to me, he played some others in the most romantic dates, he even messed with my Ipod removing some of my stuff and replacing it with his, saying You need to improve your musical culture. And all he gained was a big fight.
Then one day he came with the final resolution. He probably remembered that Larry Katz phrase, There are two types of people: those who love Bruce Springsteen and those who have never seen him live.
I hadn’t, so he bought me a ticket: If you don’t love him after that,  I’ll never bother you with the Bruce question.
Ok, so, let’s go to this show. Not so much enthusiasm on my part, I admit it. But then, I like to sing at concerts, and I really knew quite a few of his songs, so I was mainly like Ok, I’m just hoping he plays some basic stuff, wide popular. And let’s hope these three hours (THREE HOURS? GEEEZ) pass in some rush.
Wake up at 5 am, big day of hard work in line and then in the pit, but we were in the front row, and all is good. Then the show began, the Band came out, the crowd shouted. And then Bruce is on stage, the stadium explodes, he looks at the people, and smiles. Just smiles.
All at once, I realize I’m sooo screwed. He’s got me. And he’s never letting me go.


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