I'm sitting here at the Oak Hill regional library, leeching wi-fi and trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. In two hours my band will take stage for a four hour show for a bike week extravaganza in New Smyrna.
I misunderestimated the physical effort required to play percussion (bongos, congos, etc.) My arms feel like they weigh about a hundred pounds a piece from yesterday's practice. I am still a little iffy from last weekend's camping trip w/ ms. molly. And my friends are trying to get me to hang out with her...again!
No.
I'm getting too old I fear. More responsible.
It's strange hanging out with people you love and feeling like an outsider. School has a way of putting things in perspective--like the spider bite on my ass from running naked through the woods in the middle of the night, howling at the moon like a madman. No one else understood why I disappeared for an hour into the balmy mist that evening. No one else understands that I needed to be baptized by the forest. Even my sober self has difficulty understanding it.
But I am capable of understanding how they grew concerned in my absence. How they feared I was passed out in a ditch somewhere.
Still
I feel selfish...
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