"Call Me Issa."
The encounter would have gone a lot better if Jane hadn't behaved as though I wasn't proferring a piece of a very ripe Limburger cheese and requesting that she tuck it into her pocket to remember me by.
I got rid of the ring -- its magic was ruined for me -- and moved all of my Jane Siberry CDs to the Siberia of my music collection. It wasn't just her obnoxious tone at the concert, it was my sense that her music was becoming inexcusably pretentious and dull. I still adore "When I Was a Boy" and "Maria," and some of the earlier songs (how can you not love "Everything Reminds Me Of My Dog"?), but my Big Thing for Jane was pretty much over.
So now I read that Jane was really serious about divesting herself of all worldy goods, and for that I commend her for consistency. The part where she renames herself "Issa," however (Arabic for Jesus), worries me a bit. Hey Jane, come home. All is forgiven. Except that hairdo.