The night before last, when I finally closed my computer and forced myself to bed, I wasn't sure that I wanted to wake up.
Earlier that day, Roberts' SCOTUS had trampled red o'er the vintage of the '65 Voting Rights Act.
Later on, down in Texas, Senator Wendy Davis was forced to yammer on for some 11 hours (in a freakin' back brace) to ward off the GOP plat-eyes chomping at her ovum.
Forgive me, OK, for wanting to go gently into that rager of a night--remembering only the best of times America and I'd shared.
Sure. I was "on the list" for Mina Caputo's early acoustic show at Bowery Electric the following evening, but as someone who's had matching his/her suicidal tendencies, themselves, I figured, of all people, Keith-cum-Mina would understand if I didn't make it.
Much to my then chagrin, I woke up on Wednesday, June 27, 2013.
It was early, too.
As if instinctually, I grabbed right for my iPhone, only to find Siri littered with missed calls, text messages, various Twitter mentions and sundry Facebook taggings.
It wasn't long thereafter my tune was changed. Ding, dong--DOMA was dead, indeed! My body sang ecstatic that it'd made it through one of the soul of my country's darkest nights.
Finally, gay marriage (or just, ya know, marriage) would soon be legal throughout the kingdom. Officially.
Free at last, love had come along. Moreover, it turned the collective y'alls around, just as Kenny Rogers once promised.
Meanwhile, in my own heart, I knew that pot was well on its way...
* * *
About last night at Bowery Electric, Mina Caputo, for lack of better terms, just sounded kind of kaput.
Be it lute-led opener "Cracks in the Mirror" or the apt "Charade" or a chilling number like "In December (Beyond Our Grasp)," something, somewhere was off.
Again, in my own mind, I could tell that Ms. Caputo had a heavier subject weighing on hers.
Not that there weren't genuine moments musicaux, of course.
Locked in with Dutch guitarist Ryan Oldcastle, especially on harmonies, even at half-mast, hers is still a voice worth giving a berth--that impenetrably thick Brooklyn accent notwithstanding.
Likewise, hearing the story behind a song like "Always"--inspired by the crashing of a Red & Tan bus on its way to Manhattan--truly left me thinking, 'I'm with you in Rockland, Mina.'
As I continued to watch a pint-sized, cut-offs clad Caputo work through a set twice her height and double its metaphoric heft, I realized there was a reason so many of her songs ended on unresolved chords.
With DOMA done (not to mention Billboard premiering an atypically sexy vid for "Identity" hours earlier), it should have been an evening at least approaching closure for the former Life of Agony frontman.
Instead, like Sylvia Rivera before her, Mina Caputo was giving proof that for those born in the wrong body, there's a lot of perilous nights left before transgenders see every right under our bright stars.
And that, alone, should keep each and every citizen of these United States up tossing and turning.
