There Have Been

Bad Moments


Buttercream
When I think of Taleesha in those days, I see her looking out past my shoulder...
9-19

It's a well-known fact that all guitarists secretly wish they could be drummers.
 
If you ever find yourself at a jam session, band practice, or soundcheck - keep your eye on the guitar player. He'll be the one intently watching the drummer, waiting for him to get up from his seat and step away for a moment.
 
And when that moment comes and the chair behind the kick drum is empty, the guitarist will be the one who 'nonchalantly' sits down at it and starts messing around with things.
 
To a guitar player, a drumset looks like a big toy that's just begging to be played with. It has something to do with the way a guitar player's head is wired. Guitars are, at their core, very simple instruments: you hold notes down with one hand and strum with the other... simple. Drumsets, on the other hand are a wonderland of playthings and noisemakers. Not to mention the fact that they have all these attachments, clamps, valves, pedals, and things hanging off of them. It's like putting a little boy in front of a fire truck.
 
Guitarists don't understand drums. They want to, but they just don't.
 
Drummers know this, so that's why you'll always find them carrying their sticks wherever they go.
 
It's not that drummers are mean, it's more the fact that drumsets are expensive pieces of equipment, and have a frequent habit of getting broken if left in the care of a six stringer too long. This can be a problem, especially right before a performance. As a result, there's only so long that a drummer will let you mess with his instrument before he moves you off.
 
So if a guitarist is messing around with drums while the drummer is close by - they will sorta paw at the drums -- hit them too softly, or gingerly brush at them with hesitant fingertips. If a guitar player hits a cymbal, they will mute it immediately, because that's the sound that will immediately bring the drummer running. If you happen to be the guitarist unlucky enough to be caught crashing your drummers cymbals (and believe me, I've been that guy plenty of times), they will shoo you away from the set like a mother scolding an eager child away from something expensive and ceramic.
 
The reason for this is that guitar players want to bash on drums as hard as they can. Guitar players like the sounds of cymbals being splashed as violently as possible. Guitar players like to swing their arms around, twirl sticks on their fingers, and make explosion-type sounds whenever possible. Guitar players don't understand that you can get these sounds without attempting to break the drum in half, or putting a hole through it. But to be totally honest, guitar players don't care about all of that.
 
Guitar players just like to hit things too hard.
 
 
 
Late Tuesday I ventured out into the night, one hand on the steering wheel while the other fumbled through a wallet to make sure that I had enough cash on hand to buy the gallon of milk that was at the root of this particular excursion.
 
I drove on, the sounds of the Gap Band pulsing from the speakers in the back of the car:
 
Ain't got no car
Gotta ride the bus
All the way home, y'all
Gotta listen to Gus fuss...
 
Wanting something a little more groovy, my hands move towards the fast forward button on the tape player, deftly dropping the wallet into the passenger seat while my other hand executed a lane change.
 
As the music skipped by at hyperspeed I wondered to myself -- How long did it take me to learn the trick to fast forwarding a cassette on instinct? When did I acquire the Jedi reflexes that allow me to fast forward and rewind cassettes for unspecified lengths of time and then stop them at the exact moment where the song I want to hear starts right at the beginning?
 
I decide that it was probably the same time that I mastered the method of shaking an aspirin bottle so that two, and only two pills jumped out into my waiting palm.
 
A there is a click as the tape returns to normal speed.
 
Out-stand-ing
Girl you knock me out
Ex-ci-ted
...Makes me wanna shout
 
It's strange to me that whenever I find myself leaning back into my car seat to relax in the comforting arms of the upholstery -- I can rarely remember myself leaning forward. All I know is that whenever a good song comes on the stereo in the car, I find myself leaning back into the seat so that I can enjoy it.
 
I like the Gap band. Despite being second rate P-Funk rip off artists, I've always dug their stuff.
 
I add my own voice to the harmonies of the chorus while I drum out the beat on the steering wheel. Streetlight reflections race along the hood, up the windshield and over the back of my car, like seaweed floating over an approaching wave.
 
I'm the only one on the road. It's barely 12:30 in the morning, but the streets are empty. Why does this disappoint me? Jacksonville is a fairly large city, where are all the people exploring the night? There should be more people out at this hour..
 
Am I really alone in this?
 
(Absently I notice that I'm hitting the wheel just a little harder than I actually need to...)
 
The all-night supermarket approaches on the left side of the road ahead of me. The parking lot is empty except for a pair of police cars. The cruisers are parked side by side with the drivers side windows rolled down so that the officers can talk to each other without having to get up from their seats.
 
I'm not speeding, but I slow down anyway.
 
The song is only half finished...
 
Ahead of me the streets are empty, except for a line of silent yellow spots shining down every couple of feet. I can just see inside the window of the supermarket from the road. It looks like a solitary clerk is pushing a broom around...
 
Sometimes the atmosphere sealed inside your car is like water lingering from a hot bath. Sometimes you don't want to get out, even if you've already finished cleaning up.
 
My mind wanders. The streetlights beckon.
 
There's another all night market near the beach...
 
As I reach the expressway there are more lanes on the road. I'm able to open the engine up a little.
 
My mind is pregnant with thoughts and frustrations. It's as if there's a message in the fact that I'm the only one who seems to be out here at this hour. It's as if there's a meaning in the fact that I'm enjoying driving to the store more than I'm looking forward to buying the milk.
 
I don't have the words for it. I can't seem to find the right colors to brush onto the canvas.
 
Things I need to change, things I need to say...
Things I need to hear, things I need to realize aren't really that important
 
It was a good day. A good day followed by a magical afternoon. It felt like something that hadn't happened in a long, long time.
 
Yet somehow it feels somber that I'm still awake experiencing it by myself. For reasons I can't fully get my hands around, It worries me that I try so hard to try and make these magical days last as long as they possibly can, try to stretch them out farther than they really need to go. It's as if I'm worried that I only have so many of them left available to me, which simply isn't the case.
 
But here I am -- pedal to the floor, Gap Band on the stereo, speeding towards the east in the hope that the sun will wait just a little longer for me...
 
Give me just a little more time so I can squeeze all the life I can out of this milk run... 
 
God, I wish someone else was driving around at this hour.

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