Emotions are real things. It doesn’t seem to matter where they come from, whether their source is fictional – the emotions themselves are just as potent. I guess it has to do with their chemical nature and our subjective perception, but it’s stunning how intensely my heartstrings can be pulled. By a song, by circumstance, or current events, or by a television show, by a book.
The new paintings on the walls at Teavolve are awesome! Mike on the mic at my open mic. Steve Patton. Dave Benham. Ross Martin. The sassy John Peiffer. John Peiffer is one HELL of a harmonica player! As shown off with our friend Matt Holsen. I LIKE having Kosi local! Lacey. Kevin Stanley’s going through a rough break up – or rather he’s GONE through a rough break up and now he’s out singing about it. I’m glad he’s here. Bailey and Scott. A wonderful and strange story from Zachary. Robb Johnson.
And of course, as always, it all gets amped up by lack of sleep and Life.
Last night it was Watchmen and the Magicians. In the past it’s been the death of Optimus Prime or Han Solo or Wash. Fictional characters that I’d shared mental space for years or in some cases decades or in the case of Han Solo almost literally my entire Life.
In that sense I guess it MAKES sense that sometimes I’m struck by these fictional characters’ deaths even more-so than that of real people sometimes.
Heather and Kristen and I meandered our way back from North Carolina via an open mic in Falls Church, VA and though all of our performances were great (and the shows were fantastic) there were an alarming number of highs and lows packed into what was effectively just a 96 hour tour.
Our featured artist, Rupert Wates. We all listen in our own way. Damn it, I made this big speech about how I want to make sure I take more photos with my friends… and then took a HORRIBLE photo with my friends! Sigh. It’s comin’ on Christmas. Unfortunately, contrary to the holiday air, tonight’s probably the first night I legit felt threatened by the Squeegee Boys… driving home at 10.30pm, the first one nodded and walked away when I shook my head. The second one cursed. The third one continued wiping till I revved my engine at which point they started cursing at me and smacking my car till the light turned. It’s hard to maintain sympathy.
Hours packed into a car, fantastic night, weird racist online interactions, incredible show, a friend’s father dies out of the blue while we’re staying with them, another incredible show, meeting up with an old wonderful friend that we haven’t seen in far too long, a misogynist comic and bad sound ruining what was supposed to be a well-deserved and relaxed dinner break.
You know, Life.
And then Sunday night we got home and finished out Season 4 of the Magicians and cried at the ending. Kristen doesn’t follow the show and it’s strange how bereft I felt when Heather went home and my wife simply had NO connection to the emotions I was feeling. Riled up by fiction, by people I’ll never know, but who I’ve spent more time with than some of our fans or my open mic regulars. On some level, our minds simply don’t know the difference. On some level, our minds think they’re real. And my heart STILL aches.
Season Five starts next year. I can’t fucking wait.
