Goodbye to Pisces

On St. Patrick’s Day, I met Tori Amos. My idol. A woman I’ve worshipped since I was fourteen years old. A musician whose music sucked me in and never let go.

As corny and cliché as that all sounds, it’s the truth.

I camped out in front of the Barnes & Noble in Georgetown for two and a half hours at 6:30am, getting acquainted with other hardcore Tori fans, in order to get a wristband so that Tori could sign a book some 15 hours later.

Tori fans are weird. I mean, some of them are normal, (clearly I can say this because I am normal) but the majority are weirdo nerdy people. She has quite a large guy following, too, which I wouldn’t have expected. And not all of the guys were gay, or had their girlfriends dragging them in by their ears.

She just recently came out with a new album, The Beekeeper, and she wrote a book, Tori Amos: Piece by Piece. The book is actually worth reading, even if you’re not a fan. She goes in depth about her life and her music and it makes for a very interesting semi-autobiography. I’d let you borrow it if it didn’t say “To Kerry <3 Tori Amos” in it. Sorry. But you should read it, she never produces anything less than amazing. Her music has evolved over the years, and it’s totally different now from when she started, but it’s still Tori. And I love it.

I actually got to talk to her and shake her hand and everything. And I met her body guard, who isn’t very big. She was standing up too, not just sitting behind a table or anything like that, she was really embracing people. It was like, “Hey, I’m Tori, just a regular person.” Very casual. Our conversation, though the moment and its pictures are a complete blur in my head, went something like this:

“Hi, what’s your name?” Extends her hand to be shaken. Good handshake. Not a half-assed handshake.
“Kerry…” She’s about a foot shorter than I am. So tiny.
“Hi Kerry, how are you today?”
“I’m good, how are you?”
“I’m good, okay I’m going to sign your stuff here.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Well thanks for waiting for so long.”
“Oh you’re worth the wait.”
“Well thank you.”
“I loved your book. I love the new album. I love everything!”
“Oh thank you dear. Oh and your shoes are pretty!”
“Oh! Thank you!!” Patting myself on the back for deciding to wear my hot pink shoes.
“Here you go.” Hands me my freshly sharpeed CD and book.
“Thank you, thank you so much. Really, your music has changed my life, it’s such a gift.”
“That’s very sweet of you to say, thank you, thank you. That’s very sweet. It was nice meeting you.” Extends her hand again as I’m totally staring at her not knowing what else to say.
“It was nice meeting you, too. Thanks!”

I mean, wow, I was a bumbling, flustered idiot. At least I was able to say something. I’ve had the encounter with famous people where I just kind of stop and stare and can’t move, so I’m glad I didn’t do that. I feel like I could’ve been a little bit cooler and collected during the whole thing, but ah. It’s not like she’ll remember it anyway.

That’s another thing. People were seriously talking to Tori for like five minutes. From the concerned look on her face, I think they were telling her all about their problems. And it’s like, okay if you were sexually assaulted or have had an eating disorder or something, tell your shrink about it. That’s what shrinks are for. That’s not what Tori’s for. She’s a hardworking musician with legions of fans and people have come to her because of her life experiences and because they connect so deeply with her music. She can’t help you beyond what you hear on your ipod. And the thing is, she wants to help you, but she can’t physically do it. There’s just not enough Tori to go around. I mean, sheesh, I wanted to shoot those people. Poor Tori, you know? Don’t burden her with your stuff – you may think you know her, but you don’t man.

Below are some pictures, none of them are good. I think my hands were shaking or something.

That definitely ranks as one of the top ten greatest days of my life. Afterward I got to hang out with Heather and Robin which was just ridiculously awesome.

“Have you ever seen a more Irish face?!”

And while I was waiting for a phone call outside the sketchy bar we were at, a guy walked by me and said “Damn girl, who are you waitin for?” I said, “Haha, just a phone call.” And he said, “Well, you better tell them to hurry up, ‘cause you don’t deserve to be waitin’.” And I thought, wow, that was a nice thing to say.

Everyone loves an Irish girl.