Expresso

Inhale, exhale

By
on
5 October 2022

Woke up the other morning thinking, it’s about time I post something on the blog. It’s about time I write something about Bono’s book too. Hmm. I’m not a morning person – hence the gallon of coffee – so this will have to wait. 

I actually had a Bono dream that other night. A nice one – not that nice pervs. A dream about the book tour funnily enough. And it was well worth the prices announced to be fair. No for real. Bono playing with a watering can. That was actually priceless. 

Anyways. 

Back to reality. 

Oh. Did I mention that was the night before the actual announcement? I guess I took the whole ‘Wake up and Dream’ bit too literally once again. 

And here I am. On day two of an uninterrupted panic attack, head throbbing from overthinking, phone buzzing every 10 seconds and the floor of my house covered in military-like strategies sheets of paper ripped from the kiddos school notebooks. 

Like all of us. 

Don’t pretend otherwise now. I see you all posting about your anxiety all of a sudden in the midst of my usual U2 twitter daily therapy session. Spoiler alert : the doctor won’t see you now. 

Ha. 

Freaking Bono.

We can actually blame him this time. Stories to be sung and songs to be told… Oh come on. In venues that are probably as small as his guest bathrooms to make it worse. Sigh. That’s the dream. As if any die hard U2 fans could resist THAT call. Just unfair now. 

And here comes the U2 anxiety again. I won’t lie I did enjoy the first 5 minutes of it because gosh it’s been too long, but that’s about it. *channels baby hewson* – I fucking hate that bitch. – gold star for those who actually sang it. 

The anxiety of getting a ticket. 

The anxiety of being actually in that bathroom. Venue. Fuck where the heart is and it’s not always home Bono. 

The anxiety of turning the dream into a reality. 

Lord. It’s a kind of hell we’re all willing to go through. Willingly signing up to possibly have our hearts shattered and hopes crushed in a second. Hopes that we’ve hold onto for the past few years. 

Ouch.

But there’s worse. 

A lot worse. 

The waiting. The freaking waiting.

We’re basically stuck in the realm of possibilities but not in a good way. Think Shrodinger’s cat. Poison vials and all. The Shrodinger’s An Cat Dhub – when you can and can’t have tickets until someone finally opens the presale gate. 

And it’s absolutely nerve wracking. 

Brains out of control. 

Hearts dreaming out loud. 

Guts thinking it’s impossible until it’s done. 

Yeah. This band gave us all the blessings necessary to beat ourselves up on our own.

Ha.

Crazy U2 fans. 

So how do we cope with it all then? 

I mean in that kind of situation, we usually turn to the music that calms us down right? 

TRY AGAIN.

Unless hearing Bono sing makes you actually forget about Bono so then please go for it, weird little person. 

Well I’ll tell ya what. As a black belt master in overthinking – yes that’s a thing – I’ve come to the conclusion that the best way to keep your brain from spiraling down, up, sideways at this point, is to actually keep it occupied – 5000 gifs made during the pandemic, did you really believe that was just me being nice? It’s free therapy, people. 

So make a deal with that little eejit that resides in your skull. You’ll give it tasks to keep occupied, but in return when it’s done, it will have to chill or won’t get dessert after dinner – works with kids too until they’re big enough to reach the fridge handle and you realize they never actually listened to your shit. 

You know what works nicely too? Be in control. Wait no that never actually happens. Pretend to be in control – much better. 

So pretend to. And start getting ready for the presales war. I mean, unless you want to keep moping all your stress tears off the floor really. 

BUT MY BRAIN IS OUT OF CONTROL I CAN’T THINK.

Oh my sweet overthinking child. 

Welcome to my life. 

Don’t worry baby, it will be alright. 

Let me give you a few of my presale tips then. 

 

1/ Charge your devices. The last thing you want to happen is get tickets and see them literally die on you before you can spend all your hard earned money.

2/ Be ready for the Ticketmaster monster. You know your name, so punch it in. And make sure all your info is accurate or update them. 

3/ Make up your damn mind – I know that’s hard but you can do it – pick a plan and stick to it like Bono sticks to Edge. Never let go of it. Even if you have to go to your movie premiere.

4/ Have a back up plan. Things rarely go as planned because we’re not in life tutorial mode anymore, so kick your own arse til you finally level up. 

5/ Have a back up plan for your back up plan. I know. This game sucks.

6/ NO COFFEE. One does not mess around with a chance to breathe the same air as their hero. Caffeine must not interfere with your judgment.

7/ Fuck that. Have coffee, you’re gonna need it.

8/ Don’t panic. Good things come to those who wait, and even though you might not get a pint of Guinness out of this situation, the presales code email will come. Eventually.

9/In case of emergency – allow yourself to forget about everything I just said and GO FUCKING CRAZY. But don’t do anything you’ll regret. Or put yourself or someone else in danger. And yes, I also mean your banker.

10/ And finally the most important point of all – make a list of upsides if it doesn’t work out. You need that list. It’s the only thing you’ll be able to hold onto with your ticketless hands and prevent you from more floor mopping. If you can’t find any then make them up. Treat yourself to a nice restaurant on the day of the show. Book a trip elsewhere you’ve always wanted to visit. Get the damn puppy. Just avoid any U2 references for the foreseeable future and you will avoid the legendary post presale depression. 

 

It’s just a ticket. It’s just a man. It’s just one dream. You can have others. 

Breathe my fellow U2 fans. Breathe because you have no control over anything but yourself – sometimes. Breathe and try that little thing the man is babbling about. It’s all a leap of faith after all so surrender to it.

What will happen will happen, it’s all in the Rock n Roll Gods hands now. 

Good luck to y’all. 


PS: Camomile tea. Loads of it.

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Jo D
Zooropa

Music lover, helpless dreamer, bit of a nutter. I like to think that the world would be a better place to live in if people smiled up a bit more often. Forever stuck in the intro of 'Streets', I keep bouncing through life and try to escape a boring reality using my very own sense of silliness. Some people think I’m crazy, and thank god they’re right. But the truth is that in the end, I’m just a U2 fan who drinks too much coffee

Twitter @madfl3a
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