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4 months ago
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Three, two, one...
Last Wednesday I played a show on Foster, with a few local bands. The second drummer was kind enough to let us use their kit, so I didn’t have to bring mine (I brought my own cymbals, though, since they are expensive). Next, I have two more shows to play, one this Sunday and one on the Saturday after this one. I’ve been practicing a little more and I’ve been doing light calisthenics at home, mixed with a little lifting with 8-pound weights. Have been trying to eat better too, but I had 4 slices of pepperoni pizza at the venue, washed down with a cider that came in an aluminum can.
But all this drumming does exacerbate my tinnitus. I have to do more “skull thumping” to keep it down, and the window unit provides a lot of blessed white noise. I have felt like hanging it up again, but the idea instills I fear in me, much like how a dumb old man fears moving far away from his home. I suppose that’s what I am; entrenched in the all too blissful, cloying familiar.
If I quit both bands, what little social life I have will become even smaller. Playing music with other people is an intimate, exciting, stimulating experience that is enriching both emotionally and intellectually, but I am approaching the 30 year mark and there’s this well of sadness in me - I have to balance the pros and cons and it’s looking more like I’m just hanging on. I want to be there for these musicians, and I have a cultivated talent, but sometimes I think a race doesn’t last forever. Life has an arch that ends at the bottom.
All this probably sounds depressing, which in turn is kind of funny. I am complaining now, but regardless of all that, my mind and body keeps getting up and moving forward. I don’t think I could give up if I really wanted to. The exercise is giving me more erections, and the mushroom infused kombucha is finally giving me shits that aren’t a struggle.
If there is pleasure to be had, I will take it for myself. And if it’s derived from loving and celebrating others, I’ll take it shamelessly. Maybe I will quit playing drums, and it may be frightening but it won’t be like moving to another state. You would have to be really brave to do that. Or really dumb.
But all this drumming does exacerbate my tinnitus. I have to do more “skull thumping” to keep it down, and the window unit provides a lot of blessed white noise. I have felt like hanging it up again, but the idea instills I fear in me, much like how a dumb old man fears moving far away from his home. I suppose that’s what I am; entrenched in the all too blissful, cloying familiar.
If I quit both bands, what little social life I have will become even smaller. Playing music with other people is an intimate, exciting, stimulating experience that is enriching both emotionally and intellectually, but I am approaching the 30 year mark and there’s this well of sadness in me - I have to balance the pros and cons and it’s looking more like I’m just hanging on. I want to be there for these musicians, and I have a cultivated talent, but sometimes I think a race doesn’t last forever. Life has an arch that ends at the bottom.
All this probably sounds depressing, which in turn is kind of funny. I am complaining now, but regardless of all that, my mind and body keeps getting up and moving forward. I don’t think I could give up if I really wanted to. The exercise is giving me more erections, and the mushroom infused kombucha is finally giving me shits that aren’t a struggle.
If there is pleasure to be had, I will take it for myself. And if it’s derived from loving and celebrating others, I’ll take it shamelessly. Maybe I will quit playing drums, and it may be frightening but it won’t be like moving to another state. You would have to be really brave to do that. Or really dumb.
