I dreamt Satan was in the front row. He was stereotypically Satanic – big and beefy and red. I was playing “Stagger Lee” and kept screwing up the lyrics, nervous about getting to the last verse where Stag goes to Hell and beats up the devil. I started spouting bad poetry trying to keep the rhythm, trying to hedge the lyrics around something a little more acceptable to the devil, but he was obviously growing impatient with my mistakes, tapping his cloven hoof less with the rhythm and more with impatience.
I doubt that had any effect on my mood on Monday – but my mood on Monday was not a good mood. I woke up tired, dragged as I dragged myself to Teavolve. Dreaded the drive, struggled to park, dealt with my typical difficulties with less than typical grace and, because of my mood, kicked off with “Perfect Day”. I know now to never kick off with Perfect Day. I forgot the bridge. I soloed. Circled back. Picked up the bridge. Got asked to turn the whole thing down. Pushed through the whole night being perhaps a bit manic as I struggled to not fall prey to a bad mood, and more importantly, not take that bad mood out on those around me.
People who knew me knew… people who didn’t maybe had a good time. It was hard to tell.
Last night I was Dan Magnolia’s featured artist at the Black Squirrel in Virginia. I wasn’t worried about it until the gig Heather had for the night fell through and she decided to be in the audience instead. I’ve grown to be a fairly confident solo performer, but having Heather in the AUDIENCE rather than by my side was slightly harrowing.
But I rocked it. Despite rocking it, the vast majority of the room made it through 4/5 of my set but some how didn’t make it till the end. I would’ve been really struck if they hadn’t almost ALL come up and tipped before they headed out – but I had that horrible feeling like I’d said something wrong, or I was too loud, or SOMETHING. I mean LITERALLY all the musicians that had already played left before the end of my set.
Still – the players who hadn’t played (with the exception of that one guy… you know the one… the one who asks you to sign him up in advance, barely makes his set, and in the process manages to miss just about everyone else and those he IS there for he talks through?) though – those people all stuck through the entire night and we hung out long after the music was done talking about production and hosting and Star Trek and the Smiths. That was kind of Lovely, close to exactly what I needed. A sense of community in a different community, an end of a night where I didn’t have to break down the gear and could just let people swirl around me, focusing on what they say rather than wrapping my cables.
We came back to Heather’s brother’s place and let ourselves in quietly. In darkness we found our beds and climbed into them. I didn’t sleep well but had strange dreams, indigestion, confusion and music in my head.
Today : work, orders, tech support, this, that and also the other. I should’ve order t-shirts and cook books earlier. I’m slow at too many things. But the diner was good. The sunshine was good. The garden was good. I lay in the grass in the sun and smelled the earth and Justin accidently dug through the Cicada Layer and we unearthed one, wriggling and displeased, half-baked and moist. As the garden boiled with earthworm activity, he was the sole source of jointed legs and exoskeleton, displeased to see the sun, he failed to flail himself back underground and eventually we re-interred him with a shovel-full of soil.
Tonight – another gig where rob and Heather of ilyAIMY are rob and Heather not ilyAIMY. We’ll be ilyAIMY tomorrow. But tonight – we’re individual entities. Separate but equal. I’m a little concerned about going AFTER Heather. I’ll just have to ratchet up my game a little… bit…. More….