I don’t understand why people love me. And that’s probably what a lot of my troubles that tour boiled down to. I was coming to terms faster with the fact that I could love other people without understanding it than I was the opposite. By showtime the heat had let up a little, so it […]
I don’t understand my own ego. How can I be so invested in self-expression that I’ll tell people it’s my reason for living, and at the same time be so self-effacing I almost erase myself sometimes? Flip tapped the watch on his wrist to tell me it was time for Vitamin F. I took the […]
I don’t understand arguments. I don’t understand what happens or why. I feel like other people must understand them better. Am I wrong?
(Thanks to generous donations last week from readers to our Paypal account, here is a Saturday post! Enjoy! -ctan) On the bus to the venue, Flip sat down with me to strategize pharmaceuticals management. We decided on a Flexeril 30 minutes before soundcheck, another one 30 minutes before showtime (five hours later), and debated whether […]
At almost midnight, Flip came and knocked on the door of the suite where Ziggy and I had, for lack of a better term, fucked each other silly and then passed out. When we’d woken we’d had room service, and we had just gotten out of a very long shower when the knock came. You […]
We got into a cab in front of the hotel in St. Louis. The weather was a hot drizzle, with the temperature around ninety and the air like soup. The cab driver was a black guy who definitely didn’t seem to think he had anyone but maybe a couple of college kids in his cab. […]
I woke up at five in the morning having a dream about Jordan. It was a super realistic dream where we were working on a project together and somehow we needed a piece of equipment they didn’t have in the studio and we were going to various lengths to try to get it, which included […]
Shit. Why did I ask him to come to St. Louis? It sure as hell wasn’t so he could watch me drop a guitar pick and almost crack a kneecap I went down so fast with a spasm in my hand so bad it felt worse than the fucking knife had.
The anxiety that hit when I got Ziggy’s page with his landing time was like a railroad spike to the throat. In a weird way that was better than the railroad spike to the head I’d been experiencing, though. And it was weirdly better than the stake-through-the-heart feeling that Ziggy-angst used to give me.
I finally talked to Ziggy for a good stretch on the phone around lunchtime in St. Louis. It had been like seven in the morning when we’d pulled in, Flip made sure I was tucked in and passed out before he went to bed himself, but he’d apparently slept through all the drama on the […]