Vastus Lateralis

Even before the buildup and anticipation to what was surely to be an amazing show, I had very lofty expectations for the Tool show that was to be in Reno, Nevada on January 14, 2012.  My last run-in with Maynard, et al was just under 2 years ago in San Francisco at the Bill Graham Civic Center.  Despite my somewhat crazed ideology of incessantly listening to Tool, never once have I experienced a letdown.

For me, Tool is the exception to the rule—I can listen to Tool to satisfy any emotion.  Music can be used to pick you up when you’re feeling down, or heighten your bliss when you’re on Cloud 9.  Normally certain music can only help with one aspect, but for me, Tool can elicit emotion within any state of mind.

When I listen, it is the feeling of being sequestered in a comfortable, yet vulnerable space.

Curtains Up

During this particular show, Tool wowed by playing songs I would have only dreamed of hearing live.

Opening with Hooker with a Penis, and continuing onto Ticks & Leeches, Stinkfist, Pushit, Schism… wow.  It was everything I could have ever imagined and more.

Then something happened.

There was nothing but a soft, rhythmic guitar riff.  An echoing bass line gradually built like a pounding heart set to the beat of a marching drum.  As the intensity of both grew, the crescendo struck with a climatic addition of drums and a forceful electric guitar.

They were playing Lateralus.

I fell into a deep trance of lateral thinking as my mind seamlessly shifted from one thought to the next; Vastus Lateralis.

I swung on the spiral, whilst deeply concentrating on the Fibonacci sequence and imagining the infinite possibilities of everything.  The vastness of the universe put into perspective by juxtaposing it with the paltry existence of humanity.  There is something greater than yourself, and this was proof.  Maynard, Danny, Adam, and Justin all were terrific.  The music was great, the visuals were spectacular, the experience was inexplicable.

Despite this, what occurred after the show was even more spectacular…

An Unexpected Connection

We were back in the hotel when a woman approached my friends and me (most likely to share how great we all thought the concert was since we had our Tool garb on).

*Note: on second examination, she probably just wanted to take a picture of my Nerve Endings Tool shirt, but that is neither here nor there.

We ended up talking not only about how we both appreciate Tool to the maximum, but also discussing fundamental emotions of love, hate, ambivalence, etc.  As normal as that sounds for some people, I am very reserved and typically do not discuss such topics for the sake of sparing people my holistic view on reality and the meaning of life.  When I do converse about such topics it usually involves me playing Devil’s Advocate and arguing unabashedly in a brash, unadulterated style that very few can tolerate.

Contrary to my norm, we clicked on so many levels other than just heightened adoration for Tool that I was dumbfounded.  Me—the walking juxtaposition of intelligence masked through a yearning for normalcy—was speechless for a brief moment.  This was a quest to feel something other than impartial.  Two minds so connected on so many levels; the sheer beauty of her, her thoughts, her aspirations.  I could not stop from staring deeply into her eyes and noticing a reflection of myself.

However, I did not recognize the vessel.

She smiled ever so gently and I could feel myself smile back.  This was not the singularity I usually feel when in discussion with someone else—I felt connected.

After building a rapport for hours on end, I would swear that we had previously met.  We talked about the concert, the beauty of emotions (or the lack thereof on my part), astrophysics, dreams, aspirations, baseball, my need for anonymity, hotlanta, and so on.  What really tugged on the heart strings was the sincerity and compassion she displayed when speaking on the topic of what love feels like.

Without hate, there would be no love.

I have viewed this as a strong duality that becomes blurred through the overuse and haphazard utilization of both words.  This logic was destroyed in watching and listening intently to her speak.  The passion in her voice and the gesticulations employed were perfect.  This was something that could not be faked.

This did more than pique my interest—it somehow transcended the physical into the spiritual.

I couldn’t suppress my feelings any longer; I had to take a chance.

I asked her for a piece of her Tool memorabilia that she kept near and dear to her heart: her necklace.

This necklace obviously meant a great deal to her for some reason.  She told me she had worn it for years.  But before we went our separate ways she obliged in parting with it.

The utter greed of me asking for something that meant so much to her is inexcusable. But her smile, that unforgettable smile, as she took it off her neck to give it to me meant that the emotional journey was not a ruse—she too must have felt the connection when one and one are one.