Indigestion. Oh how I hate you. My stomach is a delicate flower that encloses so many things around it. It attacks and voraciously ingests and then gurgles contentedly before rethinking its actions and getting rebellious.
Our first night out our outdoor show at the FRESH Benefit in Brooklyn, CT gets slammed by a monstrous thunderstorm. We get through a song and a half before our stage is struck by lightning and the sound vanishes with a pop. Heavy rain, tin roof, there was no question about continuing for what meagre audience happened to still be there. We broke down our gear with a swiftness and waited for a break in the rain to loud out through.
Last night there was rebellion indeed – and I’m fearful that la revolution is still viva-ing.
See, being pretty aware that my stomach is just the way that it is, I try to eat carefully and I try to time my feedings with precision and to act with foreknowledge of the bathroom situation at any given venue / landing spot and of course, to keep up on the the social acceptance of impressive bouts of flatulence (i.e. level of background noise at shows, the fact that this is more acceptable at a biker festival than in a folk listening room, etc).
So – with all this caution kept in mind, I know I still screw up, and last night, despite my best efforts, I spent a lot of time in our host’s bathroom “scaring the cats” as we like to say. It’s better than feeding the dogs, I assure you. It was 4 am, only my bandmates had to know – but I’m letting you in on this private world because we’ve got THAT kind of relationship, dear reader.
In any case, here’s my concern. Looking back at the food of the day, there were potato pancakes – which are, in themselves, absolutely harmless. There was sour cream (dangerous, but not terribly so) and applesauce. There were eggplant fries. There were smidgeons of Heather’s curried salmon and Kristen’s mac and cheese – both of which in small amounts that I can’t imagine there was ever any REAL danger from them…. and there was a late dinner of a chicken shish kabob sandwich that was absolutely delicious that I only ate half of.
White Rose Confession at Particle Accelerator IV in Putnam, CT.
Now, that sandwich is the mostly likely culprit, I guess, simply by process of (no pun intended) elimination. Unfortunately a) it was absolutely delicious and b) there’s still half of it left. So what do I do? I don’t think I REALLY want to risk another night like last night, if only because I and my my bandmates all need the sleep…. But it’s really, really good…. And it’s not something that SHOULD’VE upset my stomach….
Oh, the belly conundrum. Text your suggestions now! Press “0” if you think I should eat the sandwich! Press “1” if you think I should err on the side of caution!
No. Not really. Please don’t text me binary Life advice. If a problem can REALLY be solved with a yes – no answer set, chances are I really already know the answer.
After Particle Accelerator, we retreated to our friend Mike’s place. There we encountered Eddie who refused to be moved. I moved him to the side and he slunk back to the middle. I moved him AWAY and he slunk back to the middle. I had to move him and then swiftly occupy the space in a holding action with somewhat military precision in order to actually gain a foothold in my sleeping space
