Netnet Camomot “I CAN’T help falling in love/I fall deeper and deeper the further I go/Kisses sent from heaven above/They get sweeter and sweeter the more that I know... “The deeper I go/All is fair in love she said/Think with your heart, not with your head/That's what my mama told me/All the little things you do/Will end up coming back to you/I let my father mold me.” Sigh. Madonna appeared at 10:30 pm and asked if it’s OK with us to stay till 2 am. And I guess we all replied with, F@#k yeah! We would not have minded staying till 5 am! By the way, “f@#k yeah” was the “yes” for the night. No simple yes or no for her. It was a night of cursing--f@#k, motherf@#ker--peppered with simulated sex onstage, and statements such as “You’re the fender, I’m the bender,” “I came here to shut the f@#king city down,” and “Nobody f@#ks with the queen.” F@#k yeah! I had this crazy stupid smile the whole time, with no space to breathe in-between the grand production numbers that she had for most of her songs. No words will ever be enough. This was the concert that would leave you speechless but empowered: I am woman, hear me roar! This could be her last concert before retiring. So, if you missed it, and you’re curious on how it was live, sorry na lang. You don’t even have to be a fan. Curiosity should have been enough motivation. On Wednesday morning, at 10:19 am, hours before the first night of the concert, I received this text: “Madonna Rebel Heart Tour Advisory: Please bring your Official Event Access Card & Printed Ticket. As per artist mgmt., SLR Cameras, Monopods, GoPro & similar video recording devices are NOT ALLOWED. Ipads and tablets may now be brought inside the venue. Gates open at 5PM.” Happy dance! Happiest dance ever! For a while there, the 32-year journey towards this concert was like a dream. But that text made it real. It used to be ilang buwan na lang right after buying the concert tickets. Then, it morphed to ilang linggo na lang. Until, ilang tulog na lang. Last Wednesday, it progressed to ilang oras na lang, ilang minuto na lang, ilang seconds na lang. On that Wednesday morning, I was writing the column for Friday, but there I was, shouting with glee like a little girl who would soon see her idol. Wait, Madonna is not my idol. It’s my sister who’s her one true fan, with her group of dancers dancing to her songs way back when--and I’m not telling when. Madonna appeared onstage at 10:30 pm but the audience didn’t seem to mind. They waited for 32 years for this, and it was worth the wait. I used to wait for the Grammys’ live TV coverage to watch Madonna perform. Compared to her concert, though, her performances at the Grammys and other awards shows are a minute fraction. It was Broadway, a circus, and magic all rolled into what my sis describes as liberating, awesome, intense. If you ask me now about all the songs she performed, I won’t even remember. But I remember how they made me feel. For that’s how it always is. We always remember how someone or something made us feel. It could be a feeling of hurt, pain, this ache that breaks your heart to pieces. Or it could be joy, pure bliss, with your heart so full of love. The Madonna concert was the latter kind. A crazy stupid smile filled with love. One thing for sure. The songs that night were for the rebel heart for this was after all her “Rebel Heart Tour.” And she says as it is. No frills. No pa-cute. No making tusok-tusok with the bola-bola. Or it could all be PR as usual, a public image so heavily guarded and maintained, with the normal taken out of the equation and replaced by what can still wake you up in this age of Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.