well tonight i eyed this rad peavey, but i never got to pick it up. picked up the flute, tho, and some sort of drum that kept sliding around, but not me, just the drum.
and at some point i played pool, and at some point we talked about the blues. the old blues. the masters, the first ones to be recorded. and maybe who dares to play the blues, an maybe we will.
next week.
next week at styler’s open mic, where the equipment comes storming through the door at quarter after nine, and the coconut sits on the mixer, and the effects fly fast and hard, as they should, cos who knows what the hell we ar doing, cos we never did it before.
where the colossal fossil sauce rocked it out, and pulled out the hendrix and the marley and the sugar hill gang, yes, they did. and me, i guess i used to know it hands down, but now i know less than i did, but i think this is thoroughly understandable.
and this is ocmd music at the steer inn just down the road from where i once slammed on the brakes in my 1969 VW bug, and slid sideways into the intersection, then sat there, trying to look normal, until the light changed.
i might of ran over a toad, driving home, and this weighs heavy on my heart, but i could not swerve, my tires are bald.
and my old dog, hitch, she is sleeping on the floor. snoring. she wakes up once in a while to go outside, or eat some food, but mostly she just snores.
so that’s the happenings at the steer inn, i suppose. i tried to film the fake cow, but set off the alarm, and all the chickens were asleep.
but i rocked on the swing in the backyard. which is worth at least one more day on earth, as i see it.