I went out to have a beer with Eric on Friday night and we spent some time reminiscing about our years together in My Dear Ella and Minor Stars. I was jogging home the two blocks from the Orange County Social Club to my apartment when an amazing, unprecedented event happened—my feet slid out from under me on the wet cement and I crashed down like a ton of bricks onto the sidewalk. I ended up with a separated shoulder, which was not the way I had planned to start my holiday weekend. I spent Saturday on the couch with my ice-pack and laptop, and the only productive thing I accomplished was to copy some DVD footage of the 2004 Bright Orange Tailspin CD release show at the Local 506 in Chapel Hill. I was struck by how much younger I looked only six years ago, and also by what a jackass I made of myself when the camera captured me in all my intoxicated glory.
These are the things that swirled through my head yesterday as I played around in the studio (I was pleasantly surprised I could play the instruments with only minor discomfort). I’ve also been thinking a lot about creativity, and how much I enjoy exploring a particular moment in time through music or writing. And my shoulder hurts like bloody hell, and it’s impossible to sleep for more than an hour at a time. Here’s what I recorded last night before fading out:
I was only 34 years old
when I thought I played my final show
But who was I to think I’d know when it was all over
I went away for 4 long years
and thought I conquered all my fears
But man you saw me shed those tears when it was all over
I got back up and hit the scene
to find out what it really means
The sleep ain’t always worth the dream when it’s all over
So many times the same old thing
I think I’m out but then I’m in
I thought I’d lost but I just might win
We watched it go under the bridge
There ain’t no sense denying it
And who’ll be left to give a shit when it’s all over
and said and done but I was never one to jump right in
but I might not see your face again
We can say goodbye or just say when