Monday, March 19, 2012

Nothing To Prove

Guests in the attic and I'm not lonely.There are nails to cut and weeds to pull. I've got new songs piling up on each other like Delta jets on the tarmac in Atlanta. Sometimes I worry that I may be a bad example for the dog. On the other hand, I don't growl at the mail lady.

What do you do when the writing's on the wall? I've used up my quota in terms of romance. They shoulda' pulled me out several innings sooner. I'm not complaining now, mind you. It's just frustrating to think that you never got to throw the fast ball.

Born to rock'n'roll, I've lived it. If not well, completely. I veered off several times, sometimes for years at a stretch, but I always came back. For years, no decades, I was nervous before I went on. I read John Lennon quoted once that he always threw up before he went onstage and it made me feel better. I decided that it was an important element in professionalism, a sign that you cared. Then on a European tour years ago, it went away. Just like that. This is better. I suppose that some cosmic messenger wormed his way into the frontal lobe and suggested that it wasn't going to get any better. It occurred to me at some level that I don't sing pretty or on-key. I can't play guitar very well. I'm just Ronny Elliott. That's what I do. If they don't like it, there's not much I can do about it. I'm still Ronny Elliott.

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