Pictures From Peter Gabriel & The New Blood Orchestra; Arena Leipzig; 14 September, 2010

A lovely German gentleman named Uwe sent me these images of the soundcheck and concert in Leipzig. Enjoy. And yes, the dork in the green shirt is me. In the photo next to it, you can see how overwhelmed PG was after meeting all 11 of us at the soundcheck. Made his day, I'm sure.

I'm also going to ask if you copy these images to please give photographic credit to Uwe. Vielen dank.

OK. I Give Up and Now Believe in God

So I went to Leipzig, Germany just to see a Peter Gabriel concert and rehearsal. I spent a lot of money on it so I'm now broke. So I take the trouble and effort to get from Philadelphia to Leipzig and the night before the concert I realize I left behind the email with the conformation code I need in order to attend said rehearsal and concert.

I don't have a smart phone, laptop or PDA. I did not have Internet access. Hell, I couldn't even find a public phone in Leipzig.

Now, anyone going through this situation will of course be upset but they get over it. Either that or they have a 12 hour panic attack.

Guess what I did?

Yeah, that's right. 12 hour panic attack. During the attack, I did the inevitable getting down on my knees and praying through gritted teeth, "God, if you exist -- GET ME INTO THAT ARENA."

A few seconds after that I realized that the hotel staff had Internet access. Heck, earlier that day they let me send an email to my Mom to let her know I was okay. Unlike Berlin, which I visited in March, I could not find an Internet cafe. By 11 am I had a copy of the email.

I not only got into the soundcheck but during the soundcheck I got to meet PG again. We even had a short private conversation, which is a significant step forward in our non-relationship. He still has that beautiful laugh he does through his nose which makes his chest shake. He was a sweetheart and golden-skinned as usual and several pictures were taken of us together, including the two at the top of this post.

Later that night I discovered that I sprained a toe during the concert. I don't know exactly when because I was so full of adrenaline. The toe didn't begin to hurt until about an hour after the concert ended. I was then lying in bed and thinking about the roller-coaster of a day that had just passed.

This was my thought process:

"Wow. I guess there might actually be a G -- OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!!"

Says it all, really.

The two photos of PG and myself are courtsey of a lovely lady named Melanie Witrin. I'm also putting up a video of a song a fellow audience member recorded during that night's show. Enjoy:

Update on Personal and Peter Gabriel News

It seems I'm doing most of my blogging-style pieces over at Associated Content because, quite frankly, I get a few pennies for the posts and get nothing here. This is my charity blog. Something in my life should be free of Google Ads, even though they are one of my clients and God bless 'em.

News About Me

Health still continues going downhill despite an ultrasound in my privates stating that I'm fine. Fortunatley, my ultra-Catholic gynecologist believes that ultrasounds do not give conclusive diagnosis when it comes to female naughty bits. Tomorrow, September 11, I board a plane bound for Germany to see Peter Gabriel and the New Blood Orchestra for a third and, sadly, final time. That is, unless PG has any plans for me (HA!)Read about the gory details here.

News About Peter Gabriel

Peter's had what was probably a normal summer for him but it seemed kinda weird to fans. May was spent recovering from New Blood North America, taping a show for "Guitar Sessions" (where PG played piano) and campaigning to stop construction near Bath. He also announced that he was headlining a concert in celebration of the Melbourne Cup's 150th anniversary. It turns out that PG has a thing for gambling on horse races.

Ouch. I'd still take a bullet for him, but supporting the abusive "sport" of Thoroughbred racing? Ugh!

June was spent working on the orchestrated verion of his songs and doing some promotion for the Melbourne Cup gig.

July was spent still working, goofing off, hosting WOMAD at Charlton Park and then running off with the family to his hotel in Sardinia. There, he had a belated 60th birthday party.

August saw Peter abrupty cancelling the Melbourne Cup gig. His website has stated nothing about the affair. Read more in Peter Gabriel and the Melbourne Cup Fiasco.

On September 1, PG's fan liason Tina left. Tina's managed to keep her last name secret, which is probably a good thing considering what some of PG's fans are like. She did not give a coherent explanation as to why she resigned, but posted a long goodbye letter on her bit of petergabriel.com stating how she enjoyed her 20 (or was it 30?) year stint for Peter and how she was going to miss everyone. Read more here.

That's it for now. Off to get my full amount of panic time in before heading off to Leipzig.

Ultrasound Results & Pony's Birthday

My dog, Pony, is six years old today. So, how did I celebrate? By getting a transvaginal ultrasound. (See last post as to why.) And the results?

My ultrasound was normal. The doctor and his nurse were giving each other the "I think we've got another hypochondriac here" looks.

I did not make that pain up. Hell, I've had ASSAULTS that hurt less. And no they're telling me nothing's wrong and last period was just a "fluke" and "perhaps" it will never happen again.

Or perhaps it will.

So, now, every month I get to look forward to my body spinning that great big Wheel Of Pain and seeing where it lands. Shooting me in the head probably would've been kinder. At least the wait would be over.

Anyway, Peter Gabriel put out a new video, which I'm trying to use as medication:

Back on the Xanax and Doubling Up on Ice Cream

I had a bad week:

* We learned our 16 year old cat may have thyroid cancer.
* The nest of four baby house finches was ripped apart by an unknown attacker just two days before the babies were due to fly. Only bits of one corpse was discovered.
* I learned I may have cancer

Any week where cancer pops up once is a bad week but to have it pop up twice means it's time to go back to bed.

I had an extremely painful attack during my period. How painful was it? If someone had handed me a loaded gun, I would have unhesitatingly shot myself. THAT'S how bad the pain was. Fortunately, Mom handed me a Percoset and not a loaded gun.

Mom called a gynecologist the next day (because I was too wiped out to use the phone) and before she finished listing the symptoms, the receptionist said, "Get her here NOW."

I was examined and told it could be one of two things:

1) Endometriosis (which sucks)
2) "Pre-cancer of the ovaries and/or uterus" (which REALLY sucks. And no, I didn't ask what "pre-cancer" meant. You have a little bit of cancer in the same way you are a little bit pregnant.)

I have an invasive ultrasound scheduled for 13 August (my dog's birthday.) Just what is an invasive ultrasound? The ultrasound wand is STUCK up my TWAT. I'm not too sure you can get MORE invasive than that (and if there is -- I do NOT want to know about it.)

So, the important thing most readers of this blog will note (well, one of you, anyway) is this -- am I still going to Leipzig to see Peter Gabriel and the New Blood Orchestra in September?

You bet. Going to Germany with the knowledge my body could implode at any moment will make the trip that much more exciting.

That's why I'm paring this post with an image of PG instead of any other subject matter mentioned.

Peter Gabriel's Cover of "Illusions"

1987 was the 750th anniversary of the city of Berlin. So, what to do to celebrate? Make a cheesy television program! However, this show featured an incredibly rare clip of Peter Gabriel covering "Illusions," a song made famous by Marlene Dietrich in the movie "A Foreign Affair" (1948.) The electric piano player is David Sanctious, who was part of PG's band during the 1986 and 1987 tours.

I've been a PG fan since I was 16. As a result, I have a long list of things PG does that pisses me off. However, this is goes on the list of things PG does that sends me into a state of bliss.

The video was saved since the 1980s by an Italian PG fan and put up on YouTube in the past week. Enjoy:

Replacing Xanax with Ice Cream

Remember a couple of posts back my doctor was concerned that I may be bipolar? Well, if you don't, just pretend you do. I had been taking Xanax for about a year after the neighborhood drunk threatened to kill my dog.

I was up to three pills a day at one point, but then went to two at the time I saw the doctor in April. Then I went down to one (because I was running out of Xanax and was too lazy to get it refilled). For the last two weeks or so, I've been down to none.

I have, however, begun eating ice cream again. I had to stop in 2006 because the dog was on a diet and have YOU ever tried eating ice cream with a dog begging at you and you can't give her any? Drives you mental. It can also be dangerous if the dog really wants the ice cream. And the panic attacks, racing thoughts in the morning and problems concentrating seemed to have subsided. Coincidence?

Yeah, probably, but ice cream is a heck of a lot cheaper than Xanax. I'm not sure which is more addictive, though.

At least I've figured out where to go in the house to sneak the ice cream so the dog doesn't realize I'm eating it.

Of course, looking at Peter Gabriel photos also helps to calm me, so that's why I stuck one up with this post that has absolutely nothing to do with him. Yeah, my mental state is doing MUCH, much better.

Peter Gabriel Covers Tom Waits for Daughter's Charity

Like father, like daughter. Peter Gabriel helped to found two human rights cahritess, Witness and The Elders, and now Peter's oldest child, Anna Marie Gabriel, has helped to found a human rights charity called The Voice Project. I have read many times about what the Voice Project is suppossed to accomplish and I still can't understand a damn word. So, rather than misinterpert the charity's aims, please click on the links provided and get it straight from the horse's mouth.

This remarkable piece of film was shot by Anna Marie Gabriel in London, but it is unknown who's house or hotel this was. The song is "In the Neighborhood" written by the legendary actor-songwriter Tom Waits. Over on the PG Forums, fans have remarked at how PG takes years to make albums and yet bangs out his gem in about five minutes. Enjoy.

Sometimes Lucid Dreams Suck

NOTE: I consider the PG I dream about to be a different fellow from the real Peter Gabriel (the one I usually mention in this blog.)

I love lucid dreams, especially those with Peter Gabriel in them. Well, usually. There are times I wish he wouldn't show up. This morning was one of those times. I've cut down my Xanax to just one pill a day, so perhaps I can blame the dreams on Xanax withdrawal and not my sick psyche.

Yeah, right.

I had a series of nightmares and most of them were alike. In one, I had to clean a particularly messy bathroom and finally could take a break. Then three children robbed me of my Almond Joy candy bar. Quite annoying.

I then had a series of repetitive dreams. I was in a huge home with a stream running under it. It was filled with lots of valuable little artwork and suddenly all of these richly-dressed people with their glasses of wine and pearl necklaces and black satin suits swarmed the place and took off with everything.

I went mental. I was trying to get my stuff back. I remember fighting disgracefully and even setting one man on fire. I took one young woman's manicured hand and slammed it down on a tabletop just so the nails would break off. Then the entire house caught fire and we all had to run for it.

Then I suddenly realized that I was dreaming. Perhaps it was because I couldn't remember how I'd gotten such a large home or why there was a stream flowing underneath of it and where did all of this artwork come from?

So I had been fighting all of these people and inflicting pain all over nothing. Lucid dreams are rare things, and here I'd wasted my chance because I was too angry to realize that it was all a dream. Someone called out to me, "Would serve you right if Peter saw what you did."

"Peter wouldn't show up here," I snapped. "I mean nothing to him."

And the entire dream fell away like a series of thin curtains being hurled aside and when they were gone Peter was glaring at me, looking like in the image to the left. Only he didn't look angry. He looked sick with disappointment. I would've preferred the angry look.

He began to speak softly and eventually I had to just read his lips.

"You know," he said, "I'm beginning to think you're a lost cause."

I suddenly snapped awake. My head, back and guts ached. There was a numb spot between my shoulder blades.

Epilogue

It was only two in the morning so I thought I'd better get back to sleep. The most lucid dreams happen in the last four hours of sleep. I wanted to show that I wasn't a lost cause.

I was in a schoolroom, but I was the oldest and tallest student there. I could see people walking about but everyone else said that they weren't there. When I described them to my teachers, they were quite upset because I was describing dead teachers that they knew.

I had to make a speech in front of the class. The suddenly I thought -- why am I the only kid that is so tall and old? The teachers left the room. Then I remembered.

Everyone was looking at me because I had stopped talking. "My name is Rena Sherwood," I said, "and I'm having a lucid dream."

The kids in the front of the room looked shocked, but a few kids in the very back applauded. "Finally!" one said, smiling.

I said, "At this point, I'm supposed to ask where Peter Gabriel is." (This is a mental trick in order to not suddenly snap awake.)

"He's right outside." They pointed to their left out of the windows.

And there was Peter in a chocolate brown suit jacket and tie, looking like in the previous dream. All of the kids knew who he was and excitedly pressed against the windows, sticking their arms out to touch him. Peter laughed and shook their hands. I stood back, remembering how disgracefully I'd acted the last time we met.

A gap opened up with the kids and Peter looked directly at me through the window. He slowly smiled like a snake uncurling, inhaled and opened his mouth to speak.

It was then I snapped awake.

Peter Gabriel at Work 11 June 2010

Peter Gabriel is hard at work at Air Studios in the UK recording orchestral versions of his own songs. Some songs have premiered during the New Blood tour earlier this year, but so far, two more have added to the mix. Today's work was on "Intruder", "The Drop" and "Father Son." Already given basic recordings (before the studio digital tweaking) have been "Digging in the Dirt," "Downside Up", "Rhythm of the Heat" and "Blood of Eden."

Peter Gabriel's Twitter page, Itspetergabriel (which had to go with that because "Peter Gabriel" had already been taken) describe PG doing "impromptu" vocals on "Father Son", originally released on the album Ovo (1999.)

Meanwhile, work on my book about dreams, "The Dream Peter Prject" has been shelved so I can concentrate on paying for seeing this incredible tour for a third time and keep paying the usual bills.

Well, I'm lying. That's not the only reason I'm taking a break from it. In order to best describe the impact dreams can have on a person's waking life, I included some autobiographical material. Looking back on my life has been surprisingly difficult to do. It has given me some articles like "How the UK's NHS Saved This American's Life", which brings in a few pennies a month, but looking back has been really gut-wrenching. I know I'm lucky to be alive, but it sure doesn't feel that way, especially at night.

Anyway, I'll feel better the closer the concert date approaches ... and, hopefully, the release date of this album currently being recorded.

Last 2 Surviving Pix of Me & PG in 1996

Ok, bear with me, folks. Out of oodles of photos from my 1996 trip to Real World studios, Box village and meeting Peter Gabriel, just 4 remain, due to the wrath of my ex-boyfriends. However, my Mom (Vatican -- make her a saint already!) managed to save 4 (and the 4 are in poor shape, but at least they're in one piece.) I already posted two of them in March, 2010. Since I let my Photobucket account lapse (oops), Blogger is the only place I can post photos online for free.

I'll try to do a more proper post next time.

Do I Have Manic Depression?

My general practitioner, a title once known as "a doctor", thinks I may have been been misdiagnosed. In England, while homeless, I was officially diagnosed as having "endogenous recurring depression." My GP thinks I may have crossed that albeit ever so slim line over to manic depression (now called bipolar disorder or bipolarity.) One of the most famous still living people with bipolarity is Stephen Fry (pictured.)

Who, Me?

I was shaken to hear that. I knew I was mentally ill, but at least I wasn't THAT mentally ill. I took a very small comfort in that, as if holding on to a teeny tiny security blanket. After all, I'd been homeless and met many, many bipolar people -- some going through full-blown mania where they'd be so convinced they could fly that they'd climb up on rooftops.

I was never like that. Me, well, the first thing I think of when I wake up is, "Oh, shit. Not again." People with manic episodes don't sleep because they feel too good to sleep. I wouldn't mind a bit of that type of mania. Just a bit.

But, said my GP, there are many degrees of manic depression and not just the "common" episodes of manic and then depressive cycles. Which, of course, has now started a little voice in my head saying, "You have a BRAND NEW mental illness THAT THEY'LL NAME AFTER YOU."

Desperately Seeking Symptoms

As a freelance web content writer, I get asked to write about many, many medical conditions. You know how it is -- you read a couple of newspaper articles on a certain newly discovered disease and suddenly you're convinced you have it.

I've written about prostate cancer so much that I start checking for symptoms every time I urinate. And then I have to remind myself that I don't have a prostate. Not that that keeps me from checking for symptoms the NEXT time I have to spend a penny. Just my luck I'll be the only woman in the world that spontaneously grows a prostate just so it could get cancer.

Anyway...

So now I've been having hyperactive, racing thoughts and anxiety every morning. Is this mania? I take a Xanax and calm down enough to do some work. Come to think of it, I think I've had these thoughts a couple of hours after I wake up every damn day, but it's only just now I've become REALLY AWARE of it. I get my work done and it's a job I adore. I take care of my pets and my saint of a mother and have enough to eat. I've survived homelessness, domestic abuse and trans-Atlantic airplane rides. I should be proud of myself.

But by the time I have to go to bed, I think, "I am nothing but a complete and total cunt." Pardon for the lingo, but that is what goes through my head. There are many reasons why I believe this, but the main reason is because if I'm not good enough for Peter Gabriel, then what's the point? There's more to it than that, but I'll spare you the tedious details. (You're welcome.)

I've had these thoughts even before I suffered homelessness and domestic abuse, although those experiences turned the volume up a couple of notches. I then take another Xanax, a melotonin and sometimes a Nyquil in order to get some sleep.

So, am I bipolar? Or am I turning into a Xanax addict? I don't know and I can't afford to think about it anymore because I have to get back to work to pay for a trip to Leipzig to see Peter Gabriel in concert. That will at least make future blog posts far more amusing than this one.

Going to Peter Gabriel Concert in Leipzig

(Photo taken at Radio City Music Hall soundcheck by Zenrider)

At the beginning of 2010, I had a bit of savings tucked away in order to get a new computer. As all followers of this blog (both of you) know, Peter Gabriel then decided to tour in a most unusual way -- with a 50-piece orchestra. Because this tour was originally for Europe only, I dipped into the savings for a trip to Berlin.

Then, a day after I booked the non-refundable airplane ticket, PG announced that there would be North American tour dates. Fortunately, one was in New York City, which I could get to by train. However, I discovered that New York City is a lot more expensive than Berlin.

But two times for such a magnificent show are not enough, especially since plans to record the show in the US for a DVD failed to materialize due to production costs. I've been going through crushing PG tour withdrawal symptoms since coming back from New York City.

Now, PG is 60 and I'm 40 (I was born in November of 1969, so I'm only 19 years his junior, not 20.) He has two young sons (as well as two grown daughters) and two young human-rights charities, Witness and The Elders. The odds of him touring again are really slim.

This was my reasoning as I bought a ticket to Leipzig, Germany (where Bach lived) for a gig on 14 September, thereby wiping out my savings.

My doctor thinks I may not just have endogenous recurring depression, but borderline manic depression. I wonder why he thinks that?

New Blood Tour, Pt 2 Dates Announced

(PG photo taken from Radio City Music Hall gig by Zenrider.)

You only live once! If you haven't seen Peter Gabriel and the New Blood orchestra, you still have a few chances left in September and October, 2010. Only catch -- all of the gigs are in Europe.

- 12.09.2010 : AVENCHES / Switzerland

- 14.09.2010 : LEIPZIG / Germany

- 16.09.2010 : BRUSSELS / Belgium

- 17.09.2010 : ARNHEIM / Netherlands

- 19.09.2010 : AMNEVILLE / France

- 22.09.2010 : MADRID / Spain

- 23.09.2010 : BARCELONA / Spain

- 30.09.2010 : MANNHEIM / Germany

- 02.10.2010 : KOELN / Germany

- 03.10.2010 : HAMBURG / Germany

PG's hard working crew are also trying to get a date for Verona, Italy, finalized and perhaps once for Zurich.

I have a reason for living again! Suddenly, the sky is bluer, food tastes better and my writer's block has completely crumbled to dust. I also won't have any urge to go shopping on Amazon.com or eBay for a loooooooooooonnnnnnnnnng time.

Now, I just have to figure out which show I'll go to.

Half Birthday with Peter Gabriel Pictures

Today's my half-birthday. The weather is celebrating with ice-cold, wind-whipped rain as if it was November 18. I've been pitiful recently, so I cheered myself up by re-entering the world of eBay. I left eBay in May of 2000, back when it eBay was REALLY eBay and not an actual, respectable company that it is today. I just assumed I was banned because I was a seller and let a couple of auctions expire unintentionally before I ran off to England.

I subsequently lost most of my Peter Gabriel collection, except for some random bits my Mom saved. I've had my PG CDs and tapes stolen or destroyed by an angry Peter-substitute boyfriend so many times that I'm now wary of getting all of the CDs replaced.

But Mom did save two photo albums filled with photos and magazine clippings about Peter. I like photos of PG, 'cause it's not like I have a shot with the real thing, is it?. Photos of him pleases me. I like the way he moves through the air. When I came back from the UK and went online again, I discovered that there were thousands of free downloadable PG images online. I had about 300 - 400 before my hard drive crashed. My Mom is convinced that it was the PG JPEG collection that did in the hard drive.

I prefer candid photos of him rather than professional shots or concert snaps, but at this point I'll take anything I can get. So, I went on eBay and bought several photographs of PG, inlcuding a better version of the image next to this post.

At least my photo albums won't crash like a PC hard drive.

Well, I better get back to work to pay for all of my future eBay misadventures.

New Book Idea: Dream Peter Project

A few posts ago I wrote about how I would tackle writing a biography of Peter Gabriel. I've had to officially scrap the idea because a biography of PG came out in France in 2008 -- which means that it's too soon for anyone to write a new bio of him. Anyway, since the traditional publishing industry is dead, I'd have to self publish the damn thing and that would cost me at least $10,000. So, screw that.

Then my hard drive crashed and I spent 8 days offline. Now, birds gotta fly and fish gotta swim and writers gotta write. So I went at it with a pen and paper, like in the old days when I actually had the stupidity to think that anything I could write would ever be read by Peter Gabriel.

I've been dreaming about Peter since I was 16 (and now I'm 40.) I consider Dream Peter and PG to be two separate beings. I've learned a lot about dreams, lucid dreams and working with dreams in all of these years. I believe that when we die, we slip into a dream state and never wake back up. So, in the end, all we are are our dreams.

I've been spending time writing a book about Dream Peter, who visits me in all kinds of guises, including this image I found online from the website of clothing store Jhanes Barnes. Will this book ever be published? Probably not. Will I make any money off of it? Not a snowball's chance. And yet I'm writing it anyway.

There are those two voices that talk to writers when they write. One says, "This book is really going to help someone. Keep at it." The other says, "This book is only a pathetic plea to get attention. Why bother? It's not like Peter is ever going to read it!"

Guess which voice is talking to me now?

Hard Drive Crash & New York Psychic

My apologies to any clients that have been trying to get a hold of me since 5/6. My hard drive crashed and could not be resurrected. I'm now starting over from scratch, reinstalling all of my software. I also lost all of my Peter Gabriel images (and I had about 400), so no image to accompany this post.

It's been a strange week offline. I was so driven to write that I resorted to pen and paper, believe it or not. I went through two pens. If I didn't get the computer back up soon, I was going to have to start scraping marks on wet clay tablets.

What About the Psychic?

Oh, yeah. While I was in New York City to see Peter Gabriel, I had to walk from SoHo to Manhattan. On the way, I came across many street vendors, including Lyn the Psychic. I thought, "Oh, what the hell," and had my first reading in donkey's years.

She first began by praying to the Higher Powers for her to clearly communicate what needed to be said for my greatest good. She then said, "You're not from around here, are you?"

I guess it was stamped on my forehead, because I got a lot of that when I was in New York. She also asked me why I was in New York city. After I mentioned that I was seeing Peter Gabriel, she said, "You've no shot with Peter Ga--"

"I KNOW THAT ALREADY!"

She also told me, "Do something wit yer hair!" Now, I kind of doubt that the Higher Powers were talking through street vendor Lyn there. I have a feeling that was Lyn talking.

Off the Market

She seemed fascinated by my left palm and said I wouldn't have any problems with money (HA! I quake to see how much this hard drive crash is going to cost me.) She also said that I may move, due to my job, but that I would not be forced out of my home.

Then she said that I tended to isolate myself and needed to see more people and perhaps date.

Whoa. The week before, my Mom's cleaning lady tried to fix me up with a date and I nearly blew a gasket. Mom then sat me down and asked me if I was ever going to date again. "Are you kidding me?" I said, "The last guy put me in the hospital, stole every penny I had and burned my home down. The only reason I went with him was because he looked like Peter Gabriel. And the guy before him was a psycho. I'd have been better off never dating ANYBODY and kept a torch for Peter all of these years."

"You mean you're never going to date again?"

"The only man I'm interested in is Peter -- and he's not interested. So, if I can't have him, I'll have no one."

"Well, I think that's sad."

"Sad? You should be bouncing off of the roof! This way I'll never get beat up again and I'll always be around to take care of you."

No pleasing Moms, sometimes. She hated whatever guy I was with and now she hates that I don't date. Huh???

Anyway, I asked the psychic, "Have you been talking to my Mom?"

Being Alone

Lyn wound up by saying that I should join a YMCA and meet more people, because "it's not good to be alone". I hated to burst her bubble, but loneliness has nothing to do with how many people are in the same room with you. I was lonely when I had boyfriends. I could be in a room of 1000 pairs of eyes looking at me and I'd still be lonely.

Loneliness is something you have to work on inside of yourself and no one can help you do that. You become comfortable with your own company and work on from there.

Besides, I'm not exactly a catch. I'm tall, about 30 pounds overweight, have breasts that have given up all hope and am 40. Believe me, you don't need to be a psychic to see that I have no chance with a man like Peter Gabriel.

Still Recovering from New York Weekend to See Peter Gabriel at Radio City Music Hall

In the next few days, I'll get a proper review of both the soundcheck and show by Peter Gabriel and the New Blood Orchestra at Radio City Music Hall on Sunday, May 2, 2010.

Some highlights:

* The night before, a car bomb was discovered in Times Square, about half a block from Radio City Music Hall. No one was hurt and the bomb was diffused, but it was a sobering shock to the open the weekend with. I had to walk to the hotel on West 32nd street from a Mexican restaurant in Soho (about 5 - 7 miles.) Although Times Square was blocked off by the time I reached it, I can't help but wonder if I'd be typing this now if the bomb had gone off.
* I had a migraine beginning at 7am 5/2 and still had it before the soundcheck. It would return after the adrenalin died down the next day. Adrenalin is a great painkiller, but only for so long.
* It was FREAKIN' HOT! This actually turned into an advantage, getting us into the soundcheck early.
* Lots of differences from the Berlin show of March 24 for both soundcheck and concert. Same T-shirt, though.
* This time, I got to meet PG. Let's say PG treated me to a viewpoint I hadn't seen before any of the other times we met. No -- you all have filthy minds -- his marriage was not put at risk in any way.
* This time, he gave me an autograph as well as an eyeful and a very sweet memory
* In between sets, I got to shake hands with pianist Tom Cawley and have a very brief chat.
* I got to meet many other PG fans, which was just about as nice as meeting PG.
* This photo of PG is the outfit he wore when I met him.

Off to gather my head together!

Experimental Post -- Hold On

Yes, that's a photo of me. It was taken about 2002 on the homeless iste Ilived on for about three years. Now, why is it up here?

Well, I tried changing my avatar at the PG Forums. Why do this? There's a bunch of PG fans meeting the night before and just before Peter Gabriel's concert at Radio City Music Hall 5/2. I thought the easiest way to let the other fans know who to look out for was to change my avatar on the forum.

No such luck. Petergabriel.com did not accept accept my photo. Not only that, but my scanner/printer stopped working. Wow -- I'm uglier than I thought. After giving the scanner/printer a remedy by making it print out a PG image (I kid you not), it began working again.

But now I have to keep this post up in order to keep up the link to my photo for those rare PG fans that want to meet me. Doesn't the Internet makes our lives so much easier?

Latest Lucid PG Dream

Info you need to know before reading about the dream:

1) Mitch was the guy I ran away to England for, he abused me, and I had to return to America in 2005.
2) Dream Peter is similar too, but different from the real Peter Gabriel, who've I've been a fan of since I was 16.
3) Sandy is Dream Peter's boss.
4) Lucid dreaming is when you are aware that you are dreaming. Dream Peter taught me how to do it when I was a teeneager.
5) About 4 years ago, I dreamt of Mitch harassing me, telling me that he was Peter in disguise, and Dream Peter came out of nowhere, gave Mitch a bollicking, then turned to me and said, "I would NEVER do that to you. Now wake up."

So, anyway:

I'm in a hotel room in Bath, UK on a writing assignment. Someone stirs on the bed next to me an I see that it's Mitch, fully clad. I frantically try to remember what just happened and if it's what I suspect, I have to kick him rioght out the door. Mitch stands, lifts a gym bag to his shoulders and is about to leave. I know I only have this chance to tell him how he ruined my life.

But all I can think of to say is, "You really pissed me off."

"I know," he replied. "But isn't it nice to know that, after everything that happened, some good came out of it?" And then he walked out.

Puzzled, I walk out of the hotel and find that the entire city of Bath has disappeared, replaced by gray woods next to the River Avon. Mitch walks in front of me, then turns around and says, "Isn't it funny how we keep bumping into each other?"

Finally, I get it. I'm dreaming! "My name is Rena Sherwood and I'm having a lucid dream, " I say, as I have been taught to (it helps me stay in a lucid state throughout the rest of the dream.)"But I do not want to dream about YOU."

"I know. I'm sorry."

That's not like Mitch. Since this is a dream, anything is possible. "Who are you, really?"

He walks up and whispers in my ear, "I'm Peter," and it's Dream Peter's voice.

"I thought you'd said you'd never appear to me as Mitch!" I whisper back.

"Yeah, I know, but then my boss Sandy saw my little performance and thought it would be a brilliant idea for me to appear to you as Mitch. I refused for as long as I could. But, now, well, here I am," he whispers.

"Why are we whiserping?"

"Although this is a dream, you never know who may be listening in. Now let's get back to the hotel."

Anway, when I woke up, I wondered what Dream Peter meant when he said that some good had come out of my being abused my Mitch, becoming homeless and that whole lot. I wonder if I'll ever find out. It's been about a week or so and I haven't seen Dream Peter since to ask him.