A Great Night...until The Bunny
Last night was excellent. I stopped by the Illium Cafe in Troy to see/hear a friend of mine play. He was great; he always is--there is no need for suprises. The suprise this particular evening, though, was that a bunch of other musicians were there watching/listening, as well. I was glad to see the familar faces and catch each other up on our lives a little.
After the gig, we walked down around the corner to this swanky--I never thought I'd say swanky--bar where the best local band of like the last four years, as voted by our area's main music publication's readers, was playing. I had never seen them before and was definately interested. They really were great! Excellent, even. Tight, if you will. (tight is one of those hip words that musicians use to describe how well a group is playing together. loose would be the opposite. you definately want to see/hear a tight band rather than a loose one. although, tightness is difficult to achieve. it is the sign of great musicians who have been playing together for a long time. or a group of musicians who are very lucky...)
I was having a blast at the show: hanging out with some of my favorite people, listening to a tight--and very entertaining--band. Unfortunately, I could only stay for part of the show as it was late and I have that "long drive back home" thing going against me. Even so, it was a great night.
Then came the bunny.
Now, I have been driving for over ten years. In that time, I have not run over any live animlas (that I know of), dead animals (I definately avoid them when I see them), or people (live or dead--again, that I know of) ...
... until last night. (warning: the following descriptive language may not be suitable for all. reader discretion is advised)
I'm driving; it's dark. The heat is getting overwhelming, so I glance over at the dashboard and turn down the knob. I return my eyes to the road (they had been away for no more than two seconds) and there he/she/it--a bunny--is. When I saw it, it hopped once, quickly, then disappeared from view. It happened so fast, I didn't have time to react! Its visual presence was instantly replaced by a sound that can only be described as the brutal crushing of insignifcance. In the game of survival, car always beats bunny.
"What was that?" Stephanie asked.
"A bunny," I said.
"What was it really?"
"It was really a bunny ... ."
The poor creature's quick (and hopefully painless) death has haunted me. I don't like it when things die. I don't like it that a life can be so suddenly erased. This situation clearly shows how life can be insignificant.
Please do the bunnies of this world a favor. Watch out for them when you are driving.
After the gig, we walked down around the corner to this swanky--I never thought I'd say swanky--bar where the best local band of like the last four years, as voted by our area's main music publication's readers, was playing. I had never seen them before and was definately interested. They really were great! Excellent, even. Tight, if you will. (tight is one of those hip words that musicians use to describe how well a group is playing together. loose would be the opposite. you definately want to see/hear a tight band rather than a loose one. although, tightness is difficult to achieve. it is the sign of great musicians who have been playing together for a long time. or a group of musicians who are very lucky...)
I was having a blast at the show: hanging out with some of my favorite people, listening to a tight--and very entertaining--band. Unfortunately, I could only stay for part of the show as it was late and I have that "long drive back home" thing going against me. Even so, it was a great night.
Then came the bunny.
Now, I have been driving for over ten years. In that time, I have not run over any live animlas (that I know of), dead animals (I definately avoid them when I see them), or people (live or dead--again, that I know of) ...
... until last night. (warning: the following descriptive language may not be suitable for all. reader discretion is advised)
I'm driving; it's dark. The heat is getting overwhelming, so I glance over at the dashboard and turn down the knob. I return my eyes to the road (they had been away for no more than two seconds) and there he/she/it--a bunny--is. When I saw it, it hopped once, quickly, then disappeared from view. It happened so fast, I didn't have time to react! Its visual presence was instantly replaced by a sound that can only be described as the brutal crushing of insignifcance. In the game of survival, car always beats bunny.
"What was that?" Stephanie asked.
"A bunny," I said.
"What was it really?"
"It was really a bunny ... ."
The poor creature's quick (and hopefully painless) death has haunted me. I don't like it when things die. I don't like it that a life can be so suddenly erased. This situation clearly shows how life can be insignificant.
Please do the bunnies of this world a favor. Watch out for them when you are driving.