Oh Hi, It's Just Me Again...

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

I ended my last post with a "To Be Continued" and then neglected the blogosphere for a week.

I think I was merely going to tell you a story about the day I kept getting unexpected visits from random people.

There's a college kid from the second floor who's a poetic genius. He had come to remind me to go to the writer's group that we're both part of. I wasn't really feeling awake enough to partake in any sort of intelligent writer's critique, but I pulled a hat over my messy hair, grabbed my laptop, and went down the hall to meet the group. I worked up the nerve to read a short script, listened to Lego Guy go on about how I'm "just not that funny," then went back to my room to take a shower.

Another knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I yell, emerging from the shower. There's a cartoonish noise from the other side of the door. I throw on some clothes and go to see who it is. I see that someone slipped a note under the door.

The note said this: "EAT. PEAR. WAFFLE. TWEAKED OUT ELVIS COSTELLO. ART."

Except it said Tweaked Out Elvis Costello's real name, of course. He's not really aware of the fact that he has that cute nickname on the Internet...

Anyway, I opened the door to find him scuttling down the hall. He informs me that he's making waffles in the restaurant downstairs and that I should come eat one.

I'm not one to pass up waffles, so I wandered downstairs and promptly ran into the guy that owns the restaurant. He asked me to play a set this Friday. I said "yes." BAM. Got myself a gig.

A gig that is sneaking up on me. Tomorrow is Friday.

And yesterday, I found out that I'm no longer the opener...I'm one of the headliners. So that intensified my pre-show freak-out a bit.

I called Ryan and he's going to come do a few songs with me I think. We'll see how that goes.

Sometimes, I don't know why I insist on performing. The anxiety that happens in the 48 hour period before I get onstage is ridiculous. You better believe I'm a little ball of nerves right now.

Anyway, it's time to rock and roll, kids. Over and out.

(More coherent post to come later, I promise.)

And remember - you are not hardcore unless you live hardcore!