Not sleeping. I’m not sleepin. I’m sitting here. Not sleepin. I’m filled with visuals beyond my skill to capture with my hands and my ears are filled with noises far beyond my ability to create. It’s a frustration.
The house is sick. Ash had the flu recently, Kristen caught SOMETHING that’s got he coughing and sniffly and I think I’ve got that now and I’ve had so MANY different colds and stupid coughs this year and of course Amy’s just been sick steadily for almost two months. The cats have ceased to be good company because they don’t like the coughing and I’m constantly worried that I’m going to lose it before a show, for the open mic… and by “it” I mean my “voice”.
Sigh.
Urgh – my text and my photos have once again gotten horribly misaligned – this is a shot from our show at the DC Hard Rock Cafe on Wednesday, February 16th. Along Those Lines was the last band to play, and they’d brought something new to the stage: boxes! Oh, the genius of bringing BOXES to get you a good foot and a half higher than anything else on the stage. Boxes for rocking. Genius.
Kristen brings things home from the store. I bring things home from the open mics. Why can’t the things we bring home not be FUN things… like hedgehogs and puppies?
Well, maybe Transformers. Because I don’t have to feed those.
See? I certainly SHOULD be in bed. I just can’t sleep. Sigh.
Scott Bergstrom’s blurry knee. He’s invited us to Peabody as part of his final project in school. Oh, but what mics! Mics that look like phasers and mics that look new and mics that look retro! Ribbon mics and condensor mics and dynamic mics and SM58s. Peabody has ALL the mics. Except any of the mics I recognized from our time at UMBC. A learning experience to say the least. Kristen and I basically came in to try out some mics, but we didn’t have a plan. Off the cuff I suggested “Spiral”, which, since we’ve not played it that much was sort of a waste of time. And then I recorded scratch tracks for a potential radio version of rearview. Also tricksy since I just neverplay with a click track. All-in-all the main thing we got done was me choosing a favourite vocal mic.
And it’s the next morning. I like receiving little notes from Heather that say she’s doing well. Apparently the gig last night in Ohio was a “Great night”. I like that every once in a while she mentions how she hates doing the traveling alone – just as I hate playing alone – I’m glad to be reminded that in our most comfortable state, we are a duo.
However, last night I imagine she was PROBABLY glad I wasn’t along. After the “Great night” text she messaged me that she got to go out and have a beer with our Ohio friend, Brendan. It’s not something she’d get a chance to do with me. I’d have been whiny. I’d have wanted to go home. It’s not that I don’t like doing stuff with other people, I just still have an aversion to bars. They’re always noisy. I can never ACTUALLY hear what’s going on… I’m the old curmudgeon in that context.
Well, I’m OFTEN the old curmudgeon in ANY context. I don’t like beer. Whiskey and bourbon is expensive, and I really, really, really shouldn’t drink a lot of it. And I don’t like playing Rock Band. And I’m not good at pool. There are a LOT of social activities that I just don’t have a great proclivity for. And I don’t remember people’s names. And I’m terrible with faces. And I want to talk about scifi. Or world events. And I’m a fascist-depressive when it comes to world events.
If I’m not hidden behind my guitar, I’m hidden behind my laptop and I’m often a little scared wallflower when I don’t have my shields.
And so – I think I’m glad that Heather’s getting a chance to be a bit more social, even though the cost of that is me staying home this time around. It’s been beautiful weather in Maryland, so I guess there’s an upside. It’s my last couple of Java Mammas open mics and I’d hate to turn those over to a guest host, so there’s another upside.
But at the same moment I’m getting all the texts and status updates as a dozen or so of my road warrior friends and peers converge on SXSW in Austin, TX and I’m having a rather lustful hankering to put some mileage on my Saturn.
