The desert is a lonely place. A vast emptiness of sand. A beach without water. Imagine having to carry a guy like me across it...a screaming ham-smelling man like me!? My horse (named Hogalberry) is more than a friend, he is a carrier. He kept walking when I was sleeping, and kept me warm when I was weeping. I saw him eating sand when we ran out of carrots.
Something smells like old hockey gear, and that something is me.
My brother is a powerful Deputy. He makes arrests with a glance of his eyes. Calm, cool, collectedly respectful. Hard on criminals, hard on drums. When Kristina went missing, he got a hot dog. Then a cab showed up, powered by someone even more better than my bro himself (K)…very important to the people of go-home-city.
Very important, wow, enjoy your lunch.
Anyways, after all that stuff happened, the next thing in this story is about how much I love hanging out with people at local music shows. What a wonderful sweaty and art-loving place to shake hands and take shots and hug and yell. Respecting and enjoying local music is an important stain on the brain of few but several special people. And oh how we enjoy the colourful painting of smiles it produces.
It's cool to not make much sense sometimes.
I can't keep talking without mentioning my friends Shafe the Snake and Trav the Brav(oh). These are the real heroes of our western destiny of shame. Shafe slithers through your setup and bites the flaws with jaws of awesome. He waits in the grass with good ideas and cruel sayings. He set up a thousand microphones last night and then a lawnmower came crashing through. And Trav, the true artist he is, watched his gear get trampled by raging fans. But instead of a justified murderous rampage, he kept on painting, as true artists do, while we kept on howling at the moon.
Ahhh yes, what is this mess? I feel lucky to feel the feeling of a Sunday after playing a good show with friends. Thank you to Resolve Records, and Tim, and the great bands, and everyone who gave out free hugs and handshakes. Long showers soaked in flashbacks and soapy smiles lie ahead. Bright lights and empty kegs, and now the safe part, 6-packs and movies with Meg.
And the horse I rode in on.