Red Dress, Red Nails

I haven’t played my guitar since Saturday night. I think the show was fine, and I am glad that people stayed till 1am to hear me babble. I realized that I was going to be given some easy performances in the beginning. But really after the novelty wears off, and you play for different crowds, it becomes more of a battle than an act. Performing alone is nothing like performing as a group. You have no shield, you are the center of attention. You can’t jump out and sing just a song, you are the nights song.

I noticed halfway through the set, when I finally get to the places that the music takes me. That journey unto those areas that I hide in the back of my memory. I hear the arguments in the hallways, the slamming of doors, the not knowing what the fuck is going on, or how I will fix it. Those places are dark. And those places probably are not best to be visited. This music drags me there, and on stage I see, feel, smell, and taste that air. Again.

I was approached by a young lady after my set, as I was doing the post performance walk and stare through the venue. She came up to me and said “Hey, uh can I ask you a question? Do you carry that sadness with you all the time, or do you just let it out on stage? Because that is really not healthy to hold that inside all the time“.

Note this was someone I had never met, so familiarity was not there. Guess that’s what you ask for when you perform, a real response to your set. I responded “You know, I guess I do carry some of that around, but I play to get rid of it as best I can“. But pieces of it really do come back inside, otherwise I may not ever need to bring it up or write and sing about it again. If you can imagine breaking a mirror and leaving the pieces  on the floor. You later come back and pick up those broken pieces, and as you put them in your pocket they cut you. And then later as you reach in to bring them out of your pocket, they cut you again.

Now from that, I think someone did get it. And I am glad for that. The wading through the sharp blades of grass to get it out is rough. It’s not friendly. It’s not funny. It’s not something I hope that anyone ever has to go through. But I guess we all do, eventually.

This is a song called Walk 500 Miles by Tim Barry that I performed on Saturday. I’m sharing it with you because it is awesome.

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