« Set and match | Home | New stuff »
A damn fine weekend …
By briantologist | June 27, 2004
… and it’s not even over yet. The constantly badass k drove freakin’ 11 and a half hours to T-town from A-town, just so she could join us in drinking foolish amounts here, instead of there. It’s been tons of fun. I mean, by our standards, anyway. Really it’s like having a good friend visit from out of town, only you haven’t actually met the friend in person before they got here. The Internet is oddly intimate in that regard.
We’ve done our best to show her the town, which really boils down to showing her the praying hands and the Golden Driller, then getting dumb on margaritas at Cafe Olé. Good times.
The gig, by the way, went pretty okay, considering. It was a bit sparsely attended, but on the whole I think that’s for the best. In that seven of the thirteen people watching were regulars at our living room, it was not unlike getting drunk and playing in our living room. Except I hadn’t had anything to drink, which I think was the root of my problems (nerves) during performance. There’s a special little zone you want to be in when playing in front of people, a sweet spot between the second and third beer. It loosens up the fingers a little bit and lets the soul out some, but it stops just short of making said fingers jellylike and said soul embarrassing or ridiculous.
Anyway, I thought I did really well on maybe three songs, pretty good on another three or four, just okay on one or two, and not so hot on another one or two. But people were supportive, especially a guy who was doing some sort of dance to nearly every song I played, and in between songs shouted, and I roughly quote, “You’re BEAUTIFUL! Your singing is BEAUTIFUL! Your guitar playing is BEAUTIFUL!” Earlier I’d seen him doing roughly the same dance to the act that went on before me; I can only assume he was similarly supportive of them too.
“Thanks, man,” I said, because what else do you say to something like that? It was nice of him. I was not entirely surprised to learn he may have been a tad on the retarded side, but I figure if I can entertain retarded people for part of an afternoon, I’ve done more good that day than I usually have. It’s when the retarded people aren’t entertained that you have to start worrying.
Topics: Tales of Drink | 9 Comments »
June 27th, 2004 at 4:36 pm
Oh, and ‘Johnny Come Lately’ was the other one that kicked ass and sent shills up my spine. Very well executed.
Us non-retards were plenty entertained as well. That or I’ve been lied to for a really really long time.
June 28th, 2004 at 11:14 am
I really want a belt like that driller guy has.
June 28th, 2004 at 11:53 am
Ah, the driller and the praying hands. Those images took me right back to the good ol’ days.
When I was very small I thought that Oral Roberts University was where all of the clowns lived. Due, I’m sure to something I saw on Sesame Street. I expressed this to my parents one day as we were driving past and my father said, “You’re right, son, that is where all of the clowns live.”
June 28th, 2004 at 12:30 pm
I seem to remember your dad having a lot of good answers for stuff.
June 28th, 2004 at 5:05 pm
I used to crouch down and hide in the backseat when we drove past the Golden Driller because I was terrified he’d figure out where I lived.
June 28th, 2004 at 5:05 pm
By “used to,” I mean, like, a year ago.
June 28th, 2004 at 5:12 pm
I used to be kind of afraid of the Silver Bullet at Big Splash. Just driving by it, I mean.
June 28th, 2004 at 7:55 pm
I used to hangout by the Silver Bullet for the better part of the afternoon, hoping that a 16 year-old girl’s bikini top would fly off.
I should probably point out that I was 12 at the time.
June 29th, 2004 at 12:49 pm
Only Sarah Brown can set herself up for a joke on a comments board. Rim shot!