Taking Back the Night

Drunk now.

Went to a friend's place. She's in a band named for a Buffalo. She's beautiful and so are her bandmates. We jammed together, drank too much, ate greasy pizza and felt free. I didn't play as well as I normally do in jam sessions because of how quickly I got drunk but I am not bothered by that.

They all got tired before me. Everyone gets tired before me. It's inevitable when you work third shift. You feel like a vampire.

A sexy, guitarist vampire.

Fuck yes.

Hours Later

No longer drunk.

I slept for a handful of hours and woke up feeling rested and contemplative.

I have blackout curtains that swallow the vast majority of the light in my bedroom. Even in midday, they keep my sleeping space as dark as a tomb. Of course, during the height of blazing summer, if you pull them back you can almost feel the light sear you like you're some kind of pasty cave-dwelling subhuman. Right now my room is illuminated only by my computer monitor and the light gloom that the curtains let in. It's peaceful.

The jam last night was fun. It was a bit cluttered since three guitarists were present. I always prefer to jam with only one other guitarist, each of us trading rhythm and lead. When three players are present it can get really cluttered and not a lot of room is left for anybody to have fun with it. We managed, though, and a good time was had by all.

I said in my earlier entry that I was too drunk to play to my maximum potential. Every musician I know has that limit where they are just drunk enough to play unhindered but enjoy it more because of the buzz. As soon as that limit is breached, whatever it may be, everything goes down hill faster than an unattended baby stroller on fire. For me, that's four drinks. As soon as I sip the fifth one, it's all over but the missed-noted and fret buzz.