Good things are happening. I don't want to go into too much detail, because I always feel that when I speak directly and try to describe things I'm excited about, it profanes them. I'm good at bitching in great detail. Not so strong on communicating happy thoughts.
But I am going to succeed now.
My friend Joey (he's made an appearance in at least one post on here I think) always used to tell me "It hasn't happened for you yet because you don't believe. You have to believe." And I would get irritated and think to myself "Shut the fuck up, you don't know what you're talking about. I believe! I belive!"
But then I had a moment the other day while on a job, when a different perspective was revealed to me, and I realized that I did believe in what was going to happen. All the sudden I did believe. It was like suddenly feeling the absense of pains you had gotten used to. I could feel that I really hadn't had faith before. not like this.
Now excuse me while I go tell myself "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough.. and gosh-darn it- people like me."
Showing posts with label Joey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joey. Show all posts
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
The Days of Tequila and Lillies
On Friday night after my show, Thom and our friend Joey (bartender at Vickery) and I made a desperate attempt to catch Hello Lover playing at Club Dada. One of my other friends/Vickery bartenders is in the band..
We ran across the park to the car and flew down 75 to Deep Ellum.. and then, anti-climatically, we parked and walked around looking for the club. We wandered past some sleeping street festival, past salsa clubs and dingy pizza place, past bums, through a landscape that should have probably belonged only to movies. We asked a whole cast of characters where it was, Joey even asked the same cop twice, but to no avail. Fortunately the cop was amused.
We fianally came through a crowd of mohawks and bondage pants and could see it on the other side. But we were five minutes too late, we'd missed the set. Sean was packing up when we got there. We did a couple of shots with him and my boss, who was also there.. i had a coke and Captain as well.. and somewhere between that and our fruitless search for the hottest chick in the bar, I lost track of at least some aspects of sobriety.
Record Hop went on, and the sound assaulted the tiny room with deafening fury. We stood up at the front and side of the stage, not really interacting with each other because the sound made communication rediculous. Everyone was alone with the music. I took a couple of snapshots with my camera.. my foot next to Thom's on the concrete floor, the singer blurring across the screen, a random crowd shot. Lost in the deafness of music, I made a note in my phone- "I hope I remember these snapshots- the last suck of a straw, the half hour of deafness.. the.. oblivion."
I can't remember the last time I could feel the poetry of my own life so intensely.. see the beauty in little pieces of things I see and do and the intricacies of the situations. To be sucking in air like it is something that you can't just get out of thin air. Maybe not since the days of running through a hardee's parking lot in the rain with a girl named Merry. Which is a story I must write soon..
Thom asked if everyone who works at Vickery is a starving artist. Maybe not precisely, but close. Working in a bar is really not a bad gig at all. It has its advantages.. and it offers eternal youth.
We ran across the park to the car and flew down 75 to Deep Ellum.. and then, anti-climatically, we parked and walked around looking for the club. We wandered past some sleeping street festival, past salsa clubs and dingy pizza place, past bums, through a landscape that should have probably belonged only to movies. We asked a whole cast of characters where it was, Joey even asked the same cop twice, but to no avail. Fortunately the cop was amused.
We fianally came through a crowd of mohawks and bondage pants and could see it on the other side. But we were five minutes too late, we'd missed the set. Sean was packing up when we got there. We did a couple of shots with him and my boss, who was also there.. i had a coke and Captain as well.. and somewhere between that and our fruitless search for the hottest chick in the bar, I lost track of at least some aspects of sobriety.
Record Hop went on, and the sound assaulted the tiny room with deafening fury. We stood up at the front and side of the stage, not really interacting with each other because the sound made communication rediculous. Everyone was alone with the music. I took a couple of snapshots with my camera.. my foot next to Thom's on the concrete floor, the singer blurring across the screen, a random crowd shot. Lost in the deafness of music, I made a note in my phone- "I hope I remember these snapshots- the last suck of a straw, the half hour of deafness.. the.. oblivion."
I can't remember the last time I could feel the poetry of my own life so intensely.. see the beauty in little pieces of things I see and do and the intricacies of the situations. To be sucking in air like it is something that you can't just get out of thin air. Maybe not since the days of running through a hardee's parking lot in the rain with a girl named Merry. Which is a story I must write soon..
Thom asked if everyone who works at Vickery is a starving artist. Maybe not precisely, but close. Working in a bar is really not a bad gig at all. It has its advantages.. and it offers eternal youth.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)