So, I think my membership here will be lapsing any day now.
My car's no longer sitting in the parking lot at the tattoo shop. It's nice to have a car whenever I want it, but I did like driving that sweet-ass '88 Firebird with no muffler. Felt like a badass. Looked like a badass. Made fun of people in Mustangs. Embraced the inner redneck.
But, now it's back to the pussified Japanese sedan and the corporate job with the 8:30 meetings and the pie charts. My realtor gave me a year long subscription to the North Jefferson News, which is the biggest piece of shit to ever be pushed through a printing press. Highlights always include some asshole conservative, often xenophobic editorials, the breaking news that the GOP has opened a campaign office in my hometown, and a list of the people I went to high school with that are getting married.
I realized tonight that I have to get a drum set or a new guitar. It's all tied in with this looming-I-need-to-get-the-fuck-out-of-Birmingham feeling that stems from the whole political climate, religious climate, and other negative sides I see in the South. I love Birmingham, though, and want to feel like I'm actually doing something to improve--even on a minor scale--the town. I went to the Plaza tonight to catch the Plate Six show, the first show I've been to in five years as someone that's not making music in Birmingham. It struck me how important these artists are to the city, its people, and to me. It was easy to forget in all the headaches and expenses and time spent on making music, that it actually had some effect on someone.
I remember at one of the last shows that Niles was in the band, a friend and I were talking about "the good ol' days," and how there were certain local bands that we always went to see, sometimes once a week. Then he said, "now, you guys have become that band." That's both an ego boost and very humbling at the same time.
My car's no longer sitting in the parking lot at the tattoo shop. It's nice to have a car whenever I want it, but I did like driving that sweet-ass '88 Firebird with no muffler. Felt like a badass. Looked like a badass. Made fun of people in Mustangs. Embraced the inner redneck.
But, now it's back to the pussified Japanese sedan and the corporate job with the 8:30 meetings and the pie charts. My realtor gave me a year long subscription to the North Jefferson News, which is the biggest piece of shit to ever be pushed through a printing press. Highlights always include some asshole conservative, often xenophobic editorials, the breaking news that the GOP has opened a campaign office in my hometown, and a list of the people I went to high school with that are getting married.
I realized tonight that I have to get a drum set or a new guitar. It's all tied in with this looming-I-need-to-get-the-fuck-out-of-Birmingham feeling that stems from the whole political climate, religious climate, and other negative sides I see in the South. I love Birmingham, though, and want to feel like I'm actually doing something to improve--even on a minor scale--the town. I went to the Plaza tonight to catch the Plate Six show, the first show I've been to in five years as someone that's not making music in Birmingham. It struck me how important these artists are to the city, its people, and to me. It was easy to forget in all the headaches and expenses and time spent on making music, that it actually had some effect on someone.
I remember at one of the last shows that Niles was in the band, a friend and I were talking about "the good ol' days," and how there were certain local bands that we always went to see, sometimes once a week. Then he said, "now, you guys have become that band." That's both an ego boost and very humbling at the same time.
staypuft:
i miss you. 