Scenes From Before and After a Show

I just watched a documentary about Quiet Riot in the hotel.  It was like watching Spinal Tap, without the laughs.  People that had no clue doing things that had no point.  Watching it with a severe hangover made me think of razor blades and a tub.  “Should I even go to the gig tonight”, I thought,  “or should I do some angel dust and float away into a delusional dream?”  When they put a character in a straight jacket on their debut album, they probably didn’t realize they would be creating this kind of insanity in 2015. 

It did prompt me to read about other over-the-hill 80’s hair bands.  Drug addictions, colostomy bags, fading fortunes, and diminishing returns were all accounted for.  It was like a musical version of the movie The Wrestler

It is time to take the stage here in Fort Worth.  Let me play well, and dear Lord let me have some sense of things if the deal ever goes down.  Onward and upward, for awhile…


Young girls dance in an Indian summer.  Despite my brain feeling like a bleach soaked sponge from last night’s revelry, I play a flawless set.  Rock n roll doesn’t seem quite as absurd.  People tell me I am living the American dream, despite an extremely light wallet that I am all too aware of.  It was a good night all in all.  I am not the kind of person that feels validated by the applause of a crowd, though it beats crickets chirping.  I will sleep the sleep of the dead and arise like Jesus from the tomb tomorrow.  24 hours from now I will be on the tail end of a show in Oklahoma City.  Who knows what the future will bring.  I have learned to live a couple hours at a time.  In the moment pure mutant animalistic survival is achieved.  And in this world, to ask for anything more, would just be greedy…

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