What the hell is this?

I Can't Stand [Meeting] You is a collection of all the ridiculous things I've written to and about drummer and composer Stewart Copeland.

I actually did meet him for about five crazy seconds in 2007, again for a few exciting moments in August 2009, and my most recent (and most thrilling!) encounter took place in October 2009, where I proved myself capable of being, yet again, a total dork in the man's presence.

I can't believe what I get up to. And neither should you.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Dear Stewart,

So I heard you're going to be performing at the New Roads School benefit this Saturday in Culver City, and at first I was all excited about buying a ticket and going. New Roads sounds like an awesome school, and I wish it had been around when I was a kid. Or if it was, I wish I had been cool enough to know about it.

Unfortuantely I won't be there.

I don't even know if tickets are still available (according to the website, "online tickets are sold out"). The thing is, I have stuff to do that day that was planned way ahead of time. In the evening, Patrick and I are going to Cal State Long Beach to hear Robert Langevin (principal flutist for the NY Philharmonic Orchestra), and in the morning, I'm getting my hair done. You may ask, WHAT? Can't the hair appointment be rescheduled? Well, yeah, it could be rescheduled, but the thing is, this is already the 3rd rescheduled appointment. My stylist is pregnant: she can't wait around. And dude: my hair is fucked up.

(You won't care about this, so don't read this paragraph if you aren't deadly interested in my hair:

I recently made the decision to stop dying it for awhile, and to let the gray poke on through. I'm pretty young, I guess, and immature enough that maybe people will believe that it's "premature gray." My hair has gotten to be kind of dry and damaged and I suspect that the every six-eight week dye job schedule has everything to do with that. Also, my stylist, as much as I love her - I really do love her - chooses a shade of dark brown that is still slightly lighter than my real dark brown color, and it drives me insane to see what looks like black roots on top of my dark brown hair [peppered with silver strands]. Maybe eventually I'll get lowlights or highlights or something but for now, I don't mind the gray. Seriously. I don't. And, while I really don't want to look or feel "old," I also don't want this hair anymore. Short of shaving my head, I think taking a break is the best way to handle it. So it's kind of important that at least the cut be presentable, and I think you would agree with that. My pregnant stylist isn't going to like it, but hey: it's my head. Oh, and I was poking around on the New Roads website, and there's a picture of the Santa Monica Middle School School Director, Chris Elder. That chick is hot, and her hair is way more gray than mine. I think it'll be okay.)

Anyway, so I thought for a long time about whether or not I should go. I even asked a few of my FB friends for advice. Most of them, surpisingly, suggested that I "go for it!" One smartypants person reminded me not to get arrested. And sure, I could be back in time from your daytime concert to meet up with Patrick and head to the Langevin concert, which is very close to home. But Patrick's tied up all day, and trying to find a friend who would understand my need to See You turned out to be too daunting (I'd have to explain, and for those who don't read this blog, that's just too embarassing).

And, you know, what would I wear, what would I do about my stupid hair, what if your people denied me entry, what if other attendees were all, "Does your child go to school here?" and I'd be all, "No, I'm just a lame fan of Stewart Copeland's," what if people recognized me from this blog, what if I was a big old giant goofball? I have little faith in my ability to act normal.

So. While I suspect this is a once in a lifetime opportunity (then again, I thought that when we saw you at Guitar Center in Hollywood, in San Diego for SummerFest, at Amoeba for the booksigning...), I've decided not to go. I know you'll be great, and I hope the school raises a ton of money. I wish you and your temporary bandmates all the best. I might even make a donation just for the hell of it.

See you in Dallas in 2011!

Love you,
Irene

P.S. If you're not Stewart Copeland and you're interested in more information about the New Roads School 15th Anniversary Kalaidescope Music Festival & Expo, or to donate, please click here.

P.P.S. If you are Stewart Copeland, and you want to get in touch with me personally to tell me how fabulous I am and how you can't wait to see what Nina does with my hair, email me.

P.P.P.S. The following message is just for Dufmanno, my most loyal reader and favorite commentor:
WE ARE HEXEN!

6 comments:

Unknown said...

i have a friend at work who tells me that her stylist refers to the gray as "sparkle.

Irene Palma said...

I wish the "sparkle" was a little more evenly distributed, but OK. I can live with that!

Anonymous said...

Screw sparkle. My grey started popping out at 22 and I've not stopped dying it since. I have no idea what it actually looks like anymore underneath all the fake nor do I care to know.
But like you said WE ARE HEXEN. I just smashed a guitar against my plaster wall and put a huge dent in it. I'm THAT hardcore.
Fake hair, fake rock star status.

Irene Palma said...

Hmmm. Maybe I should also reconsider my stand on shaving my legs above the knee.

WE ARE HEXEN!

Anonymous said...

By the way- did you see the crazy youtube evidence of this charity performance?
Something freaky is in the air because he was on stage with John Taylor of Duran Duran.
Members of these two bands cannot co-exsist.
It's like Stewart did it to me on purpose.

Irene Palma said...

I don't know, they're both at that rakishly handsome stage of their lives... John can't help it that his band was vile. And come on, "The Reflex" is a fun song! Re-re-re... (Um, just kidding).

If the urge to do anything to me "on purpose" strikes Stewart, even if it involves D2, I'm on board. I AM ON BOARD.