I spent yesterday in Rhode Island with Chuck the Legend and Scrap aka the Scriggity.
The show at U.R.I. was sposed to be an outdoorfest, but it rained like fuck and we were driven indoors. The very kind U.R.I. peeps were apologetic, but it didn’t matter to us; Scrap and I had fun.
I feel like I’m on a roll; sometimes I get to this place onstage where I can really focus on either the singing, or a component of the guitar playing–the fretting hand or the strumming hand. Like it’s going on without my conscious participation, and I’m just in there being an observer. Like: BE the hand. BE the strum. BE the chord.
I know: I’m a fucking hippie. Right?
But there was great embarrassment as well. I’ve been wearing glasses onstage recently, and they alway slip down my nose, old-lady-style, when I sweat. My friend Dawn in Indianapolis is an optician, so I asked her what I could do; she had the novel idea of dabbing a little antiperspirant on my nose. It worked brilliantly!
Except: I also dabbed a little on my forehead. And halfway through the show it started dripping into my eyes, and it HURT. Oh man.
I made a joke onstage that I was stoned. When I got offstage and looked at myself in the mirror, I realized that I DID look stoned. REALLY stoned. Like, my eyes were red slits.
I was walking around the theater, and all the kids hanging out were giving me these conspiratorial grins like, Yeah! Allright! You are FUCKING STONED.
One guy asked me if I had any weed. Then he asked me if I was 43 years old. Sigh.