During a set break at our show on Saturday a
couple of our band members were standing out front of the bar and some
dude driving by yelled "Fag!" at them.
Then not more than 2 minutes
later as we're strapping on our instruments for the next set, a girl who
was walking out with her boyfriend turned to us and said "You guys
suck!"
All we could do was laugh and play even harder. With still
more conviction and an even bigger chip on our collective shoulder. And
maybe somewhere in the back of our minds feel a twinge of self-doubt
&/or anger. But nevermind all that.
During the next set break
some dude who had extremely bad breath and claimed to be the original
bass player for MGMT came up to the stage and started giving our bass
player tips on how to play. I found him later and got in his face a bit,
asking what he does now. He said his life is miserable and that he made
many wrong choices and now he works on video games for kindergartners.
He also said that he thought there were a couple of elements of the band
that were really great and there were some others that were "take it or
leave it." Fuck that guy and his miserable life and his stank ass
breath.
It's not the easiest thing in the world to drive to a
different city, set up a PA from scratch and play original music for 4
hours, laying your heart down on the line. You leave yourself
vulnerable.
But it can be very rewarding. It's my favorite thing to do really.
Anyway, we kind of just laughed all of that stuff off, but there was
still that literal and proverbial bad taste in our mouths.
Our
keyboard player, Jonny, said it best, "I'd much rather actually be gay
or really suck, than be the person who yells those things at people."
And of course I'd much rather be gay than actually suck. Ok, who are we
fooling. I am gay!
But I am not some kinda spiritual zen kinda dude.
I am patient and try to be loving while at the same time somewhat
living in the real world.
But that kind of negativity can affect you a bit, regardless.
After the bar closed we took our first load of gear out to The Van only
to find that someone had drawn an enormous cock on the back window.
We had a good hearty laugh over it.
It was the icing on the cake at the end of a rough night.
But oh yeah, then I had to still drive home. And as we went, I watched
the big white moon, so close almost as if it were dangling, like the
light of a chandelier, over the swirling waves of the Pacific Ocean. I
had to stop on the PCH 3 times just to take in the view and hear the
waves relentlessly and violently smashing on the sand. And there was so
much peace in that.
