NP: Frank Zappa, You Are What You Is (CD)

Fresh coffee has been brewed. One of those many reflex responses, like saying "I hear they have great chicken wings" when someone mentions Hooter's, is that you shouldn't drink coffee in the afternoon, because it'll keep you up all night. 'Cept that I have business to attend to this evening, so up is exactly where I'd like to be kept.

Last night was odd. On the one hand, maybe I should take solace when forces of nature align against someone other than myself, but on the other, I can't do that when it's a friend. I had a thoroughly unremarkable gig. Showed up, set up, grabbed a bite to eat, came back, played, packed up, and went home. Eric wasn't quite so lucky, and I'm damned if I know why so many similar things happen to him in such different manifestations. And it's no wonder he reacted so strongly to Geno's new band name idea.

Still, living at least nominally in a hip-hop world was, while not exactly disjointed, just different from what I'm used to. The funk-by-osmosis from earlier in the day seemed to help, although I'm still tending toward playing it straight down the middle rather than messing with the location of the beat. Post-performance, I think I need to be a bit more mindful of my body when I'm tearing gear up and down, as I arrived apartment-side with a bit of back pain that wasn't helped by trying not to roll over on a cat in my bed all night. I appreciate that one of the cats has taken such a shine to me, really I do, but sometimes I'd just like a good night's sleep.

Then, early this afternoon even if it felt like this morning, I got the "it's not you it's me" call that I guess I should have been expecting. As is custom for me, I tried to take the high road, to leave the door open for the future. I'm not holding my breath, because there's no way I'm not complicit in this not working out. If there was the kind of resonance that I (mistakenly) felt, then there wouldn't be room for making excuses, for falling afoul of what somebody has decided they want or don't want right now.

Two saving graces, though, are that I could be wrong, and that I'm hoping to get a song out of the wreckage, which was not large, but songfodder is songfodder, and I've got to take advantage when it presents itself.

Tomorrow, the reign of the sandwich music king commences. All hail!