When I was young much like any other american child was told that I could do anything I whimsically decided upon. Life experience, inherited genes, and coincidence and/or destiny eventually fogged the whimsical view.
Who can say really if they've had a good or bad life? I, myself have had good years and years that I'd do over if given the chance.
I remember sixteen being so enamoured with music and writing songs that I was sure it was meant to be my legacy. I formed a band, took every opportunity that presented itself, and promoted my music furiously.
At twenty I remember after the last gig I played for an audience of five at a bar downtown in San Francisco the manager handed me ten bucks and told me he'd call me. I walked outside in the rain, my guitar in hand, sat on the curb and looked at the sky. I dropped my ten bucks into gutter and watching it float away. I was too strung out to cry and too lonely to try to forget about it. I remember driving to the beach in Pacifica in my beat up little black toyota. I went layed in the wet sand and asked God, if he wouldn't mind, to just kill me and get all this hype and dissapointment over with. I didn't answer my phone or see anybody for weeks.
The year passed and I moved on, but some part of me wants to be sixteen again.
1 comment:
I remember the sixteen-year old Dan... I remember the band, I remember the demo tapes... And I loved your enthusiasm, but let's think about it this way: the last white man to be a star at 16 was in the group Hansen. *shudders* So maybe it's meant to happen when you're 25... :D You will make it, love. You really will.
Post a Comment