The Life Nocturnal
The band is off this weekend, which finds me living the life nocturnal with nothing better to do. Hence, don’t be surprised if you see some extra posts, much ado about nothing and some random silly pictures. Boredom has a price, so I shall foist its consequences off on you, the unlucky reader.
I played a duo gig on Cinco de Mayo for a bunch of Poker widows at the local Eagles. Women slightly past their prime all the way to well past menopause sat around drinking scotch on the rocks and wine coolers ogling our guitarist with hard, speculative eyes. In addition to being a truly frightening musician, he’s also an amateur body builder; one of those people who can’t seem to do anything halfway.
That trait is probably what makes him so freakishly good on the guitar, pushing him to compete in one of those “look-what-I’ve-done-to-myself” contests this weekend, his body undergoing dietary torture in an effort to look like a thin-skinned sack of apples. The things one has to do to get your body to look like that is an exercise in self-flagellation, a masochistic art in and of itself.
Me? I’d listlessly pedal a stationary bike more often if they let you smoke and drink coffee in the process.
I manage about four months of truly manic workouts every year, until my body and I come to terms that I don’t heal as fast as I used to. “Fighting thru the pain” has consequences now, and it may take six months to undo the wreckage caused by foolishly ignoring my body’s protests.
Getting old blows.
Jim from Snooze Button Dreams has foolishly agreed to let me- along with other lucky contestants- Blogsit in his absence.
I shall do my best.
I don't know if my body is looking better or not, but I now sport a stylish-looking splint on my left wrist (which I sprained) and my lower back hurts everytime I ... everytime I ... well just about everytime.
I like that. I am one of the bandaged and braced "walking wounded" you see at the gymn. (Mostly out of caution)
Maybe I should just get a new haircut instead?