After "class," we took a drive down to the river (not in a van) to go swimming. We found a place that had a small ledge that reminded me of jumping into quarries back home (Which is a really bad idea. Don't ever do that.). I probably could have stayed longer in retrospect, but it was a beautiful experience with some wonderful new friends nonetheless. Having been outside in the heat most of the day, I was feeling a little tired at this point, and for a second I contemplated not going to the Open Mic Night I had been looking forward to for several days now. Then my "fuck it" reflex kicked in and I went anyway...
I was a little discouraged once I got there. The signup sheet was already filled up until 10, and they were running behind schedule, as these things usually do. This is the point where the uptight person inside of me started to get very anxious, because everyone performing didn't seem in any hurry to get off the stage, the MC drawled on in between every performance, and based on this and the style of music, I got the sense that I really didn't belong in this bar. I was thinking about how late I was going to be there IF I stayed and how awful I might feel the next day.
I turned to my friend who had tagged along with me and asked him if he wanted to stay. He said "I don't have shit else to do, dude. We might as well." I also remembered what someone had said earlier at the river, "Today is today until I go to sleep, and I can't think about what I'm doing tomorrow yet. Today is today." And so we stayed. In the end, I'm glad we did.
The "highlight" of the evening (at least for all of the members of the Methodist church that came out to the bar) was a bell ringer, who, although talented, played over her allotted time by at least 15 minutes, if not more. Again, I was starting to get a little bit annoyed that this was somehow alright with everyone. I felt it was disrespectful to the other musicians. Sour grapes, I suppose.
There were a couple more singer/songwriter duos and trios, nothing spectacular really, but there was an older gentleman who sang solo to old big band music and Sinatra. He had a wonderful voice (the man, not Sinatra, though he did too). I could see from his body language and hear it in the sound that he was having the time of his life up there on the stage, and that's what it's all about. THAT was probably the most inspiring performance I saw all night. I wish I had told him that.
By the time I got up there to play, the crowd had dwindled. What else do you expect when the schedule runs over an hour behind on a Tuesday night? It didn't matter to me at that point. Something that's become increasingly evident to me in recent months is that even if no one is out there listening, and even if whoever is listening doesn't care, it doesn't matter to me. I just love to play music. I become a completely different person when I do. I wonder if the older gentleman who sang earlier in the evening experiences the same thing. Everything else in the world disappears from my mind when I strap on my guitar and sing, and in that moment, I am truly happy.
There were a couple more singer/songwriter duos and trios, nothing spectacular really, but there was an older gentleman who sang solo to old big band music and Sinatra. He had a wonderful voice (the man, not Sinatra, though he did too). I could see from his body language and hear it in the sound that he was having the time of his life up there on the stage, and that's what it's all about. THAT was probably the most inspiring performance I saw all night. I wish I had told him that.
By the time I got up there to play, the crowd had dwindled. What else do you expect when the schedule runs over an hour behind on a Tuesday night? It didn't matter to me at that point. Something that's become increasingly evident to me in recent months is that even if no one is out there listening, and even if whoever is listening doesn't care, it doesn't matter to me. I just love to play music. I become a completely different person when I do. I wonder if the older gentleman who sang earlier in the evening experiences the same thing. Everything else in the world disappears from my mind when I strap on my guitar and sing, and in that moment, I am truly happy.
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