Frozen
I played at the Farmer's Market in Gloversville today. It was FREEZING in the shade, which is where I was asked to set up my equipment. I noticed the chill in the air at 8:30 when I got there and thought, "it's a sunny day; it will warm up quick." It didn't warm up AT ALL. I froze the entire two sets. In between, I went and sat in my car, which was warm. However, this turned out to make the returning to the cold shade more difficult. I should have just stayed and played. At one point, I thought, "I'll move around alot while playing and that will keep me warm." It didn't. And I felt rather silly moving about so much. Even so, I did fairly decent with tips and received many good comments and awed looks from children. "When I grow up, I wanna be just like him!! Good looking AND talented! He must get a lot of girls!!!" Kids. They're cute, but delusional.
Anyways, previously to me waking up at 7:30 to get to the gig, I slept for a little less than four hours. Before that, I was falling asleep in the back seat of my friend's car as we drove home from Saratoga. Before that, I was in Saratoga closing down the bars with some friends. Before that, I was having a blast playing darts, watching (NOT playing) beer pong, dancing to a live band, having my picture taken with people that I was with, and other tomfoolery. Before that, I had dinner at Applebees with my friends who said, "We're going to Saratoga tonight. You should come." "No," I said, "I am spent. Long week. Need to rest up before my gig at the Farmer's Market." "I have to get up early too," said friend-who-shall-remain-nameless, "we're not going to stay up too late; we'll be home by one for sure." "Well," I said, "alright." We got home at 3ish. I vaguely recall looking at my watch and seeing it say 1:30 and thinking, "Heeyyyyyyyy. It's gonna take 45 minutes to get home..."
The battle cry for the night was, "I'll sleep when I'm dead!"
I slept. I very well may be dead.
I slept again. In fact, I just woke up from a nap and was excited to see sunshine. Then, I freaked out for a minute and wondered if I had slept through until Sunday... or 2010.
After the gig this morning, I took my tips and went to the local diner for lunch-fast. I had eggs and toast and bacon. Oh. And home fries, of course. For some reason I was dying for eggs after the gig. And I was starving. Didn't really have time to eat much between getting up and getting to the market.
The diner felt strange. The waitress was... odd. She was sort of robotic. She was robo-waitress. I can't explain why I felt this way. It just may have been because she didn't really respond to anything that I did or said and just talked to me in scripts... like a robot.
My house is a mess and I have a list of things I need to do this weekend. Including: putting in the storm windows (it's gonna be COLD tonight); putting a way my PA system, which is currently scattered on my back porch; paying bills that I didn't mail out in time and will have to do them online; laundry; dishes; and possibly grocery shopping.
I was going to buy some food at the Farmer's Market... but they all packed up their stuff faster than I packed up mine and by the time I was ready to walk around and buy stuff, everyone was already pulling away from the pavilion.
I didn't get any food. Normally, some of the vendors leave me some of their veggies or bread or whatnot as thanks-for-playing. Last year, I gave out my CD as thanks-in-return. Maybe that's why they don't give me food anymore... "Don't give him anything! He'll give us more of his depressing music!!!!"
Alright. It's Saturday. I have stuff to do, but it's Saturday. If I get some of this done, I'm going out. It's cold, but it's Saturday!
SLEEP WHEN I'M DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyways, previously to me waking up at 7:30 to get to the gig, I slept for a little less than four hours. Before that, I was falling asleep in the back seat of my friend's car as we drove home from Saratoga. Before that, I was in Saratoga closing down the bars with some friends. Before that, I was having a blast playing darts, watching (NOT playing) beer pong, dancing to a live band, having my picture taken with people that I was with, and other tomfoolery. Before that, I had dinner at Applebees with my friends who said, "We're going to Saratoga tonight. You should come." "No," I said, "I am spent. Long week. Need to rest up before my gig at the Farmer's Market." "I have to get up early too," said friend-who-shall-remain-nameless, "we're not going to stay up too late; we'll be home by one for sure." "Well," I said, "alright." We got home at 3ish. I vaguely recall looking at my watch and seeing it say 1:30 and thinking, "Heeyyyyyyyy. It's gonna take 45 minutes to get home..."
The battle cry for the night was, "I'll sleep when I'm dead!"
I slept. I very well may be dead.
I slept again. In fact, I just woke up from a nap and was excited to see sunshine. Then, I freaked out for a minute and wondered if I had slept through until Sunday... or 2010.
After the gig this morning, I took my tips and went to the local diner for lunch-fast. I had eggs and toast and bacon. Oh. And home fries, of course. For some reason I was dying for eggs after the gig. And I was starving. Didn't really have time to eat much between getting up and getting to the market.
The diner felt strange. The waitress was... odd. She was sort of robotic. She was robo-waitress. I can't explain why I felt this way. It just may have been because she didn't really respond to anything that I did or said and just talked to me in scripts... like a robot.
My house is a mess and I have a list of things I need to do this weekend. Including: putting in the storm windows (it's gonna be COLD tonight); putting a way my PA system, which is currently scattered on my back porch; paying bills that I didn't mail out in time and will have to do them online; laundry; dishes; and possibly grocery shopping.
I was going to buy some food at the Farmer's Market... but they all packed up their stuff faster than I packed up mine and by the time I was ready to walk around and buy stuff, everyone was already pulling away from the pavilion.
I didn't get any food. Normally, some of the vendors leave me some of their veggies or bread or whatnot as thanks-for-playing. Last year, I gave out my CD as thanks-in-return. Maybe that's why they don't give me food anymore... "Don't give him anything! He'll give us more of his depressing music!!!!"
Alright. It's Saturday. I have stuff to do, but it's Saturday. If I get some of this done, I'm going out. It's cold, but it's Saturday!
SLEEP WHEN I'M DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!