Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Neat As Heck

When I was a kid I hated carrying those big, heavy amps. Breaking down at the end of the night was worse. Tired and sleepy, I would curse the decision to buy the biggest and heaviest equipment on the market. To make matters worse there was beer and coke all over the thing by this time. Good roadies were the ultimate status symbol.

Now the stuff is small. Lightweight. Doesn't really matter anymore. I haven't had a roadie for decades. It seems like an honor these days. I wish I played six nights a week, four hours a night. I won't live long enough to play all I want. Don't misunderstand me, I plan to live for a very long time. It's just that I love what I do. I get to dominate the "conversation" and preach about peace and love. I get to tell off color stories and complain about politics and religion. I can take my pants off and nobody arrests me. I'm shy around folks that I don't know very well. How many other jobs would allow me to yak endlessly to friends and strangers? The pay's not much but the benefits are beautiful. I was born for the rock'n'roll.

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