Here Was My Night...Wish You Were There!
I will get to the gig, which was loads of fun shortly, but first, this Adventure...
I was driving home, and it happened. The WORST feeling. Red and Blue Lights flashing away behind me. On the start of a long dark highway. (Actually, it wasn't really dark, the moon was amazing doing the reflect off the new fallen snow and all thing, lovely)
ACK!!!!!!! My brain screamed, oh FODS!!!!!! I am SO in trouble!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!! WHY??
Why indeed? Actually, I thought, pulled over, doing the Wait. Not speeding. Sober. Obeying traffic laws. Car not stolen, No warrants, not even for snow parking tickets. Not running drugs. No firearms. No bodies in the vicinity.
Tail Light. Heh. Then the questions, with the LIGHT shinned two inches from my face. Same questions, very fast, differently phrased. After telling him several times yes, my license was correct, except for the weight thing, I smiled and said "I'm sober. BA zero."
He grinned, and said " THAT'S what I like to hear, get your light fixed and have a good evening."
I sped off. As it were.
The gig was good, made better by Fiends being there. Paul got caught in traffic and was late, and Dylan was late, so we weren't really all together and going until half an hour late, so the set did go long. Kind of too long, but it falls that way sometimes.
It's harder to play the big room, as so much of what we do depends on one on one contact with the people, harder in a big room, and most people were there for the drinking, but I think we won them over. Did some good things, I do know that.
The last song was a true Epic of Absurd. A song called Look At The Coffin, which done correctly, or incorrectly, can be a wonderful train wreck of love. We took it DOWN...
Look at the Coffin, with golden handles,
Isn't it grand boys, too be bloody well dead..
Let's not have a sniffle, let's have a bloody good cry!
And always remember the longer you live,
The sooner you bloody well die!
Look at the preacher, bloody sanctimonious...Isn't it grand boys....
Look at the flowers, all bloody wilted...Isn't it grand boys...
Look at the mourners, bloody great hypocrites....Isn't it grand boys...
Look at the widow, bloody great female....Isn't it grand boys...
Some things will stay with you. Had to be there to feel the love. And the true love of the Fiends who stayed and played roadies (while declining our rock n roll suggestions of playing groupies, some people!) and hauled the gear to Prius, in the freezing night.
Love, Police and Rock,