One Day I'll make some honest rock and roll...

I've been invited to sing and play at the community center tomorrow night and frankly, I'm freaking out a bit. It's been a while since I've played in public in any venue bigger than an open mike night.. and even that was months ago. I've tentatively picked out a song to play. I know I will change my mind seventeen times in the next 36 hours before I finally settle on the song I was going to play in the first place. I have mixed feelings about getting a one-song 'set'. On one hand, I only have to practice and memorize one song. On the other hand, if I fuck that one up, there is no redemption.

On the other hand though, this is a very small town, and I'm pretty sure that the audience will be devoid of record label talent scouts. So it basically comes down to shits and giggles, right folks?

Had an enjoyable evening out for dinner tonight. Learned that there is such a thing as an over-attentive server, but hey, it's still preferable to someone who ignores you all night. I've got to almost wonder if our server at one point got written up for inattentiveness and was trying over-compensate? Just every time we turned around *BAM* there she was.

I had a few hours to kill between work and dinner, so on my break I took a cold and soggy jaunt up to Cottage books, and was reacquainted with the reason why I generally avoid that place. Simply put, I cannot go in there and buy ONE book. Before I had taken 10 full breaths in the place, I had a handful of books. Not that I'm complaining about having extra reading material. The book I'm reading right now is called 'Rage in Harlem'. It's about.. guess what... rage in harlem. Now, not having any experience with 1970's inner cities, for all I know this could be a dead accurate depiction, but to me it reads like it was written by a white guy who watched too many blacksploitation films. Whole lotta 'Lawds' being thrown around.

So now I'm about four chapters into 'Fargo Rock City' by Chuck Klosterman. Everytime I read anything by this guy I want to hunt him down, marry him and have vaguely nerdy babies with great sarcastic wit and fantastic taste in music and other pop culture. His books tend to ignite in me an intense desire to travel and/or start a rock band and indulge in any number of vices.

I also picked up a copy of 'Sophie's world' and just in time for halloween, a copy of the complete works of Edgar Allen Poe, complete with insanely fun 60's inspired cover.

Books stores are one of the few retail type stores that actually produce a physiological response when I enter them. I quickly become overwhelmed when I step into one. My shelves at home are become packed again, and I fear I may need to invest in another set of those lovely particle board cheapies. One day I will divest myself of any and all particle board furniture in my home. I've grown to loathe it. One day will come where I look around my home and see only real wood.. that will be the day I know I have made it. Particle board seems to represent to me everything I hate about mass consumerism. Cheap. Shoddy. Artifical. Lacking in craftsmanship. The thought makes me shudder. So does going into debt for furniture. Damned if I do, and so forth.

Oh my.. seems I've rambled on for more than my share this evening. sleep sleep, breakfast, oilchange, coffee with The Danno, rehearsal, and the stage await.

Night, all.