Monday, September 7, 2009

He taught the sun to shine.

Though a few weeks early of my 21st birthday, I cashed in my "present" last night to go with Sara to see Have Heart in Covington, Kentucky (What a god awful town!). (Thank you Mom and Sara!) I have always had tremendous respect, from albums, interviews, and videos, of HH's Patrick Flynn as a frontman. Last night cemented that respect as he revitalized me again (akin to ITFOW's live show in terms of getting-Tyler-stoked-about-life).

As I was pushing and swaying through their blistering set, I started to think about my ambition of being in a band. (Don't worry ears of the world, it ain't happening.) What would I say? How would I act? Would I be nervous? (Hell yes.)

Probably something like this (I'd hope!):

"Hello! My voice and the mic would snap, crackle, and pop in unison. Thanks for coming out. We are Tyler and the Studmuffins."

(First song about being in a band, probably with the line "Hey! I'm finally in a band!)

"Thank you for the 4 claps. This next song is about being drug-free."

(Coinciding song about being drug-free. Dude with the doobie behind his ear heads to the bathroom.)

"Alright, alright. Now I'm stoked. You guys having a good-time? A few woos and a you suck! This one is for Zach for being my best friend, or something like it."

(Song likely to contain the words "bro." "ups and downs," and "forever." A few people start to question my sexuality)

"Aren't dads sweet? Blank stares and one kid starts to cry. Well, mine is. I have a wonderful father, who made something of himself, and hopefully you have a cool dad. Sorry if you don't. So, this song is for all the cool dads."

(With about a minute left in the song, I turn around away from the crowd and lights. My eyes are watering...from the lights. Yeah, from all the bright lights.)

I wipe the sweat from my face. "Thanks again. This is going to be our last song. I wrote this for my wife. She is real sweet, and I wouldn't be blistering your eardrums today if it weren't for her." I start to worry about her safety. "I love you, Sara." 3 chubby girls go, "awwwww!"

(A song with lots of growls and "love." I totally make a fool of myself, swinging my arms like a windmill and knock my guitarist across the head.)

Song ends to a few claps and a groan. "Thank you for showing up to our 4:30 set. Stick around for all the sweet bands later. PEACE!"

Ah, it would be sweet.

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