
I'm walking on air and living the dream of seeing my man Art Garfunkel tonight, with front row seats literally two feet from the steps to the stage. They're temporary fold-away chairs for VIP guests, not even on the seating plan of the venue. He was my first love when I was four. I can't even put into words how much his voice means to me, or how many feels I'm gonna feel. I think I'll be catatonic for the most part. I couldn't refuse coming to Tennessee with seats this good. He's playing much closer to home but I couldn't get VIP seats for those gigs, so here I am. He's worth all the plane fare, the travel, the Air BNBs and Ubers. He's worth everything.
I've loved him since I was four years old. I took him with me to Uni, through trauma and back again. His lyrics were woven throughout my ASD autobiography and he's my kindred autistic spirit. He also carried my grandmother through depression, before she passed her copy of S&G Greatest Hits down to me. I also learned that
Wuthering Heights is his 6th favourite book of all time, among thousands of books that he has documented and kept lists of reading in the past fifty years.
ARTIEI'm going to die a little at Kathy's Song,
American Tune and
For Emily. I'm nine hours and counting.