A Little Story About Billy Joe

I’ve been neglectful of this blog here. I’m like an alcoholic, traveling salesman dad. “I’ll get to ya’ tomorrow kid,” I slur to my blog, exhaling the previous nights funk of bourbon and smoke. “Here’s five dollars, go buy yourself a birthday present. And get daddy a Gatorade.” Years later, I wonder why it is my blog doesn’t talk to me, call me on my birthday, why it can’t even sit in the same room with me long enough to watch Fellowship Of The Ring with me – and not even the Extended Cut, the theatrical version…

I’ve been busy. Again this work thing where I have to be responsible and do stuff and answer to people. Last week I simply did not have any time, today I’m making a conscious effort to not work. I’m also making a conscious effort not to feel guilty about it.

I’ve been tired. I tell the tale of a girl, but I call her a woman, she’s a little bit older than me; strong legs, strong face, voice like milk, breasts like a cluster of grapes. And okay, Pixies lyrics aside, seriously, I’ve been tired. And I don’t know if it’s because of the tired, or in spite of the tired, or if tired has nothing to do with it whatsoever, but I have taken to doing dramatic interpretations of songs. Currently, “Take The Money And Run” by The Steve Miller Band is my favorite to do. Following up a close second though is “Desperado” by The Eagles. Shitty 70’s music apparently makes for good dramatic interpretation.

I’ve been doing the show for what feels like nonstop, but in actuality has been a week. We’ve had some good shows, we’ve had a lackluster show that I hope was only obviously lackluster to the cast, and we had a great show Saturday that has me excited about getting back in there again this week.

Other than that, there’s not a ton going on last week. Saturday I finally got to spend more time at home than the hours I sleep. It was good to spend a little time with Kickers, playing ridiculous noise games and showing him how to crash two toy trucks together. He doesn’t treat me with that sort of passive aggressive bitchiness that I would have had I been away from me for a week, he smiles and laughs, and dances when I play guitar, offers up a kiss from time to time and only sets small fires.

And now it’s back to work.