Sit down, drag it out.
Back on the East Coast, and I’ve slept for maybe 12 of the past 80 hours. I know I haven’t been eating enough, or the best foods. My body has evidently been running on nothing but the joy of a homecoming well deserved.
I’ve played two shows, one in Flemington and one at the Ruckus House in upstate NY. Both times I was surprised by my own performance, and it seemed to me that the audience enjoyed the noises I made. The Ruckus Bucket show was, for lack of a better word, goshfuckingood. Incouciant dedicated their set to me, and I almost cried. I only broke one string, only made one finger bleed, and only got one gross blood-blister. If that was the last show I’ll ever play as Meat Machine, then I couldn’t ask for anything more. Well, maybe if some people were able to be there it could have been better, but logistics is no friend of mine.
I came home from the Ruckus Casa this morning with Guy, and bid him farewell as he dropped me off at Jon’s house and headed to the airport. I don’t like the idea of having free time in Jersey, when I had made so many plans prior to coming here. Jerks need to return my phone calls, jerks. Maybe I ought to just hitch a ride back to the Ruckus Fortress and spend the rest of the week there, in the warm embrace of that alternative time line.
C’mon jerks, let’s do something.