Back On Th' Fastrack.

Boy, that was scary. I had this dream that I was a washed-up 40-year old musician with a big, busted vision, nowhere to go and a ass pocket full of regret.

Whew! It was awful. Every day hurt in a new and different way. My failure, oh, it dogged me at every turn like an angry, dried-up doxy on meth.

I couldn't see tomorrow, baby. I couldn't see it. I could only see more regret and more hurt and oh, sadness too. Big Sadness. Like Big Tobacco without th' fucking settlement. All I could do was write, write, write and get up and get on th' wheel like a fucking ox every morning.

I was close to the end. No song to sing, dog. No songs inside. Haven't had a song since th' summer, man. You can't just keep writing about how bad everything is, man. The Cure notwithstanding. Nirvana notwithstanding. Those fuckin' guys never did nothin'.

But I answered the call, man. I don't know where I got the getupandgo but I reached deep, deep, deep and I accepted MasterCard as my Personal Lab and Spaniel, baby. And things are looking up in every way, man.

I'm in Soulfinger now. I'm safe, man. I'm safe; I'm sheltered from th' storm. Gone overnight is the desperation and the tears and th' nowheresville, motherfucking motherfucker.

Don't have to knock a fellow down to feel my oats, no sir. Don't have to hit a woman to feel like I've got some power. Don't have to kick a dog anymore. Oh, I was bad. Man, I was mean but I'm changing my scene and I'm doing the best that I can.

Thanks to Soulfinger.

I'm going to get Discovered, man. Who knows when? Who knows? Might be in Bridgeport or Hartford or god damn I don't know. But when you feel it, you feel it, man.

Been a long road, man. A long, tough road. Jesus. There were times when I didn't know if I could go on. But I knew somehow I guess, man. I knew. I knew there was something. I knew it couldn't all be for naught.

You see, once I was a boogie singer. Singing in a rock 'n' roll band. And I never had no problems, burning down th' one night stands.

But something was missing, man. Missing.

Being Discovered is going to rock so hard. I've got it all planned. The plane, the fucking mansions, the cars. You watch, motherfucker. You just watch.

Back on th' Fast Track, baby.


Blogger Kevin Wolf said...

It's so cool to hear this is happening. It would also be cool to hear.

shdej - got nothin'

9:13 PM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...

Dude it's just another cover band. They're just professional is all. Which means they play more and drink more. Trust me- they'll end up driving me crazy, just not as crazy as sitting in a cubicle.

Ah, the myriad choices of modern life. I can choose 7 or 8 on the Crazy Scale.

I'll crank the Irony-o-Meter up higher next time. I didn't mean to make it sound all that cool. I didn't mean to make it sound like I'm actually going to be Discovered. That happened once and it was like the worst thing.

urzdjabs- the coital thrusts of the green speckled urzd.

9:43 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


8:53 AM  
Blogger The Viscount LaCarte said...

The world is just a little better because I met you this year...

10:26 AM  
Blogger Employee of the Month said...

fkvira - one of the rejected names for Viagra from the focus group.

I would have paid cash money for your cover band to play our work party last week. Would have improved the infliction of the dreaded white people wedding reception DJ dancing.

3:00 PM  
Blogger fgfdsg said...

Dammit, and i was all ready to sing the theme song to the Mary Tyler Moore Show(1).

hsnmooig - An early synthesizer that generated tones by rubbing snakes against a ribbon. First used by Walter Carlos(2) in the soundtrack to Stanley Kubrick's "A Clockwork... Owch!", then used by the Beatles for the song "Here Comes The... Ah! Bastard!"

(1) A song I admittedly like a hell of a lot. Even Joan Jett's crappy cover.

(2) Walter's painful experiences with handling live phallic metaphors contributed greatly to his decision to have his own snake lopped off and replaced with a Tupperware Fanny.

3:36 PM  

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