I took a long shower today and picked bits of broken glass out of my body. Spent the afternoon hobbling around the house on my cut-up feet.

My set last night didn’t start off so well. Instead of playing on the stage, I had set up my rack out on the dancefloor, to be in the middle of the action. I got ready to play and the indifference in the room was palpable. People didn’t seem interested. There was something seriously wrong with the vibe. It had all the makings of the worst set ever.

I looked down at my rack of gear and thought, It is my job to own this room. Then I shook hands with a couple friends and let ‘er rip.

I turned everything up as loud as I could get it. It still wasn’t enough. I was up on a table, kicking off beer bottles. I climbed up on a ledge beside the dancefloor while I was singing. Picked up full glasses and threw them overhand.

By the end of the third song, I’d smashed every bottle and glass within a 20′ radius. Half the crowd immediately headed for the exit. Clearing out the deadwood.

I relaxed a bit. A few people were dancing. I relaxed some more and started to have fun, even though I had lost a boot and I was dancing in a pile of broken glass. “I know I should have crawled away” and suddenly I was down in it, writhing around and howling into the microphone. A thought passed through my head: I have problems. There’s too much that I’ve been putting off for too long. Certain aspects of my life need to be a lot more intense.

I really wanted people to have a good time and I tried to put on the best show I could. Afterwards I was surprised how many people came up to tell me they’d enjoyed themselves. Maybe the crowd wasn’t as hostile as I’d supposed.

Afterwards, the dancefloor was a mess of dirt, beer, broken glass and blood. So was I. I tried to apologize to one of the bouncers, but he just smiled and patted me on the back. Moral: if you like trashing bars, go join a band.

After the show the DJ took over and the normal dance crowd started to arrive. I found my boot. The shoelace had broken, so I taped the boot onto my foot with duct tape. Punk rock.

I was in the mood to get down. I was dancing to MARRS, and something didn’t feel right. So I went to the bathroom to check things out. I wound up needing pliers to pull a big shard of glass out of my boot sole.

I like gay bars. Friendly!

~I Escaped For Six Weeks [3MB mp3]
Fourteen days in the belly of the beast again. Day or night, it’s all the same. Two weeks, time to forget my name again. I know I should have crawled away.

Fourteen days in the belly of the beast again. I know I should have crawled away. Two weeks, time to forget my name again. Spit is all I had to say.

Welcome back, break my teeth, feel my skull crack as my head’s slammed against the door. But I beat them all and I will beat you too, pig. I just forgot what freedom’s for.

And some things I do very well.