People. I went to see The Police on Friday night. Our seats behind the open stage provided a good view of Sting's black-denimed butt and Stewart Copeland's fluffy hair flying around his bandana (a screen above showed Copeland's eyes bugging out of his head as he drummed.) Sting sounded incredible, as if not a day has passed since they recorded Synchronicity. But I can't get over the way he looks. The man does yoga once a day and is all tantric and stuff; apparently that's the way to go when formulating a life plan for having arms like this. So there you have it: a tantra a day keeps you looking all studly. Not to be confused with a tantrum a day, which I've tried and it doesn't make you healthier. Sting's kid's band Fiction Plane opened the show. As we were busy standing in the line for alcohol (part of my own longevity diet), we missed their set.
*I read on wikipedia (source of all truths) that the tantric thing was just a joke Sting once made at a dinner party. I choose to ignore this new information, but felt it only fair to pass it on.