Driving Down Rte 18 in the Dark
These days, posting in livejournal feels like a political act, but I just wanted to tell the world something, and it's this:
I play drums in two bands now, and one of them is based out of New Brunswick. Our first show was tonight, and it went really well, but it was at a party and I was feeling pretty anxious and lonely and Topher-like. I wasn't terribly drunk, but I was feeling my age, and my waistline, and also pretty girls were there. I had already stepped out for air and I finally couldn't take it. I was all set to bail early, eleven o clock or so. I had already said goodbye; I had even gotten as far as my car. And then, from inside the house, I heard the opening strains of "Thunder Road."
Well, I turned my car off and walked right back in and shouted every word til I was hoarse. A few choice Motown songs later "99 Problems" came on, and it was like God personally handing me some medicine. I couldn't see the night getting much better, and I left again, in one of the best places that I had been in weeks.
I made the long drive home wondering, if I were to die on the way home (a recurrent thought), what people would make of that as a final memory - if it was an example of inscrutable, pissy behavior, or if, as I'd like to think, that the music I like simply brings out the best in me. That, no matter how incredibly stupid the smile on my face is from shouting Jay-Z or Bruce Springsteen lyrics, it's always my best look.
But who knows if they thought that, or anything at all. And who cares? I need days like the last two.
I play drums in two bands now, and one of them is based out of New Brunswick. Our first show was tonight, and it went really well, but it was at a party and I was feeling pretty anxious and lonely and Topher-like. I wasn't terribly drunk, but I was feeling my age, and my waistline, and also pretty girls were there. I had already stepped out for air and I finally couldn't take it. I was all set to bail early, eleven o clock or so. I had already said goodbye; I had even gotten as far as my car. And then, from inside the house, I heard the opening strains of "Thunder Road."
Well, I turned my car off and walked right back in and shouted every word til I was hoarse. A few choice Motown songs later "99 Problems" came on, and it was like God personally handing me some medicine. I couldn't see the night getting much better, and I left again, in one of the best places that I had been in weeks.
I made the long drive home wondering, if I were to die on the way home (a recurrent thought), what people would make of that as a final memory - if it was an example of inscrutable, pissy behavior, or if, as I'd like to think, that the music I like simply brings out the best in me. That, no matter how incredibly stupid the smile on my face is from shouting Jay-Z or Bruce Springsteen lyrics, it's always my best look.
But who knows if they thought that, or anything at all. And who cares? I need days like the last two.