Telepathik Part 2

In the passenger seat of Stein’s car, on the way to band practice one day. Riding through East Dayton to the band house. At the time, I didn’t know who lived there except Stein. I knew that a few people were there in and out. It was a communal thing. It was next to an industrial lot or something. All concrete and empty for a few lots over. The inhabitants were of the lower class variety, so playing music loud into the night wasn’t going to ruin their evening. If anything, we were the soundtrack to a drug-fueled Wednesday.

We would talk about all kinds of stuff and I don’t remember much of it because I was always tired and hungry. Working a full-time job, managing a relationship and a band while playing in it is pretty intense. My insomnia was in full swing and that point and by the end of the day, I was most than wiped out. I wish I had better metaphors to describe the oppressive weight of sleeplessness, but I’m at a loss. It just was a tough scene. Anyway, he worked at LexusNexus late nights. I never asked what he did. I just figured that it was shit job that didn’t take up too much of his free time away from the band.

Those car rides where when I start noticing that I couldn’t stay awake while riding shotgun. I never got a driver's licence. Never really wanted one. Everything was close via foot or public transportation, plus I never had money anyway. It would have been another expense that would have shackled me to poverty more than I already was. Stein never minded giving my rides to practice. Or if he did, he never let on that he did. I think he was into talking things out with a friend. Even now, my eyes are shuttering and flatlining. I’ve never been able to figure it out. I just get these short bursts of unbelieveable sleepiness. It’s crippling. That’s not really important to the story….

Practice was always an adventure. Who showed up. Who didn’t. What songs were we playing. Did the songs get revised and we’d have to relearn all our parts. What new lighting contraption did our stage manager, Brian come up with now. It was a cramped basement and there wasn’t a lot of room to move. Our live shows at that point where known to be out of hand. Jumping off shit. Kicking beers over onto bored band girlfriends, swinging guitars and shit. And that was just me most of the time. Playing in a subdued environment wasn’t my deal. Practice was a warmup, but it was tough deal. Getting all amped up playing a few songs that are, almost literally, a soundtrack to a full scale riot. And then……it’s over and you go home and try to get ready for the next long day of retail hell. Playing the role of a normal, relatable human being. It was a hard transition to make. Imagine seeing a full moon, turning halfway into a werewolf, suddenly clouds appear and the transformation stops and you have to deal with the ramifications. Half man, half monster. Difficult night’s sleep. It never ended. Still…….I miss the 20 minute rides home. Even if I was a monster….

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.