l i f e
you just might believe it
contributions
christopher@30seconds.org
During the late '80's and early '90's I spent a large part of my time playing in various bands that never really went anywhere.
Sound familiar?
Well, for awhile I actually tried to do this alone, just me and six strings, and now, I've come full circle. A lot of things have. Q is back. I haven't seen him yet. Haven't made first contact, but like so many other things in my life, he's shown back up. A few items for sale:
- One 12 string Strat. (no shit)
- One custom Fender Tele (Gun metal blue, rosewood neck)
- One 6 string Guild
All of the above come with hard-shell cases and a lot of love. I've outgrown them...
I believe I'll keep the other two.
Anyway, ever notice how things in your life seem to travel around you. I don't mean they revolve around you I'm more talking like, say, you're stuck in one place watching it all happen. Watching people come and go. Watching them leave over the horizon and come back with marvelous stories to tell...all the while you tend the home-fires.
Back in the alley it was dark and smelled of rotten food. I leaned against the sweating brick wall with a Camel hanging limp from the right side of my mouth. It was about half burned and I knew if I didn't grab it soon the smoke would sting my eyes red, perhaps make them water.
I spoke low to no one around me, though every five yards or so there were one or two of us. The show-goers.
I had been scheduled to open that night. Looking back now, it would have been the jewel in the musical crown I never got to wear. Bob Mould was in town and I was to open. Me. Alone. For a lost kid back in 1991 that was big stuff.
Hell, that's big stuff now, to me anyway.
The phone rang around six the night before. It was Frank from the Cradle (back when the Cradle was way down Franklin St.).
"Yeah?"
"Ah...we've had problems with your slot..."
"What?"
"Yeah man, Bob's brought someone with him, he says no other acts."
"Who?"
"Fuck..." Click.
And that's how it went. Sure, I got back stage passes (such that they were) and yeah, I was two feet from Mould the whole time, sitting there on the stage writing as fast as I could every chord he played. So, that's why half way through the show I went out in the alley for a smoke. I sized up my musical direction that night and decided I was never gonna go anywhere. I never did...
I let it get to me. I drove home down highway 54 in a luke warm mood letting the air blow in through the half up windows in the car. That was when I still had the white one. Little MR-2. Funny, now I can't remember what time of year it was. I think it was Fall, but I'm still not really sure. I used to carry the ticket stub around with me, but gave that up for a collage that died in the house a couple years back.
By the time I got home that night I had convinced myself I'd never become anything as far as music was concerned. I believed myself. I still played, but it wasn't with the same desire and energy I had in years before. But I've learned you have to be careful what you tell yourself.
You might just believe it.
goodnight 8.20.98
