So Friday was the day. It was as if the heavens conspired for this night to be epic. It was. And by epic, I mean bittersweet. In great anticipation, we headed out to the open concert grounds only to be greeted by shiznit-loads of rain. Even with my umbrella above my head, all that was left dry at that point was my soul. The tantrums were about to surface. I told myself, John Mayer better be hot enough in real life to make up for this.
All these obstacles will never overcome how great he is as an artist. the words in his songs are so loose and relatable. The way he strums his guitar is so weird and amazing. His facial expressions tell you that he’s really into what he’s doing, and that accentuates how hot he is. Yes, even in his ordinary black shirt, he was smokin’.
Ahhh, the unbearable lightness of being. All the other annoying stuff had to happen in order to make this night as surreal as it was. It’s just like how salt actually makes chocolate milk more delicious.