Monday, February 8, 2010

Post Mortems

It was one of the driest, warmest Januaries in memory campers, and that never bodes well for the summer. I blame myself. I rented a place in town, which pretty much guaranteed a mild winter. One of the more obscure corollaries of Murphy’s Law is, whatever I prepare for doesn’t happen, but the things I don’t prepare for are guaranteed to occur.

I took my after-dinner constitutional through Lithia Park tonight, staying on the lit streets. There were a series of attacks in Ashland recently, a rare occurrence in this little town. It was enough to get my attention. As I walked by the upper duck pond, something large dropped out of a tree onto the lawn below. Scared me half to death. I looked into the gloom and saw the white face of a large barn owl. I turned towards him and took a breath. He cocked his head and locked eyes with me. We stood in silence for several seconds then, pulling hard with his wings, he leapt off the ground and ascended into the trees. Don’t see that every night.










Which really has no bearing on the matter at hand, does it campers? Admit it: you want to know how the show at Alex’s went. As Jesse says, we rawked. I totally got my rock star on. There was a good size crowd and they danced like crazy. People went nuts. It was a satisfying night.

I took a second before we started playing to take it all in and really feel it. From my protected perspective behind the microphones I looked out at the crowd gathered to hear us play, heard the buzz of excitement in the room, the sound of laughter and shouted greetings, I could feel the anticipation, the energy. It was like that final pause before jumping off the diving board, like that hesitation before a kiss. In that moment I knew that there was nowhere else I'd rather be, nothing else I'd rather be doing. In that moment, I was happy.

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