MIYAVI CORSICA PATRIMONIO

I just remembered!

Reading through my blog's previous entries I came upon my 'Miyavi's playing here tonight, but more on that later...' idiotic hopeful entry... let me tell you a couple of things about Miyavi in Patrimonio, Corsica, that glorious day, for it was glorious alright...

I had never woken up earlier and happier than that shame of a morning. Took a shower and attired myself with the best of my best, all topped with my Shanghai 2007 Miyavi T-xu, just to prove my point over Corsican wannabe crazyrabidfangirls. For I was the real deal.

Turns out Milk forgot the camera charger in Shanghai, which meant for me, oh yes O brothers, NO CAMERA. Go ahead and ask him, go ahead and ask Milk Senior as well, the typhoon of rage I was that morning after finding out I was probably going to have the chance of taking a picture with Miyavi, and there was going to be no camera. For there are NO cameras to be borrowed at Migliacciaru...

Why I was so certain that I was probably going to have a chance of taking a picture with Miyavi? I'll tell you why, why. Because everytime HIS MAJESTY has a show, it's NEVER without a couple hundred fangirls yelling his name, and he, of course, being the married fathered DIVA he has become, can't afford to sweat over some crazyrabidfangirlness unless protected by glass. In Corsica, however, and according to my calculations, that number would have diminished to about ten. TEN. Ten fans who actually knew who he was. TEN fans who stood up waiting for him to come out of the tent and walk the 15 steps it took to the security barrier next to the stage.

And you know what happened O brothers?

Miyavi never showed his face after the show.

Oh, wait a second, I think I recollect some japanese guy with his obviously french girlfriend hanging around before the show and INSTANTLY accessing the tents backstage without passes, yeah, oh yeah, I think being Japanese had something to do with it, this is called NEPOTISM, MIYAVI!! ... OK, no, it's not called nepotism, nepotism is something else, but its still a word you don't know, MIYAVI! So cut out all the swearing and learn some words goddammit!

... 'this is Miyavi from Tokyo here in whateverthehellthisis'... yeah, we heard you...

I was sitting front row with Milk and Senior Milk, who was kind enough to drive us two hours through mountains, rivers, lakes and wild animals to get to Patrimonio, himself suspecting that his son and daughter in law were, in full possession of their mental faculties, preparing to get wasted that cool summer afternoon.

And O brother, we so did.

Especially after MIYAVI ditched me, us, them... the fans. The 10 TEN! fans he had that afternoon. There's a word for that, there's also a beautiful book written by Salman Rushdie in 1987 depicting an idiot girl who likes ripping off heads off chickens.

It's called SHAME.

Miyavi, I'd been a loyal crazyrabidfangirl for as long as I managed, but I cannot make up excuses for this prince behavior I encountered, Michael shook hands, hugged and comforted fans amongst the thousands. You couldn't do it for ten. TEN.

10



Chinese word of the day: Ten 十 shi2

PS.

The show was ok... fine it was good. Alright it was great. Sure, there were 10 fangirls in the crowd including myself (and Milk, wether or not he wishes to acknowledge it), but at the end of his show I had tooyoung/young/old/tooold people covering my view skipping up and down yelling MIYAAAWAHAWHATEVERYOURNAMEIS...

But Milk bought a recyclable camera that afternoon just so I could have my picture taken with Miyavi, just in case. And I never did.