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Cancer Society Benefit
2005-04-13 - 12:14 a.m.


before/after
strangely non-functional guestbook

Sunday I played a benefit for the Cancer Society.


Mick showed up in the vintage suit he wore the night before, with a new blue shirt underneath, spread out over the lapels of his jacket. 


Halfway through our set, I was playing my nickel plated steel resonator, my eyes closed as I tried to emote.  Plus, I get the feeling I make the audience uncomfortable when I stare at them.  I try to keep my head down a lot, and close my eyes, so they can feel safe watching me.  Like the girlfriend of a former bandmate, joe, said, I "...stand there, close my eyes, and look good."


 I felt a presence near me, and I opened my eyes to see what it was.  Most of the time when I get that feeling, its nothing physical. Either figments of my mind, or something else.  Ghosts maybe.  Spirits drawn into the room by the music, I don't know.


 Not this time.  A man was standing six inches away from my guitar, which is chromed and polished to a high sheen.  He had beady eyes, a dickbroom over his lip and yellow, gnarly teeth.  Baseball cap.  Flannel shirt with a liner in it, tight very light blue stonewashed jeans, white hightops, and an overall feral apperance.  He held his girl's hand in his off hand, and tried to admire his reflection in my guitar.  Right by my strumming hand.  While I'm in the middle of a set.


I looked at him, and he looked at me with a sense of awe on his face.  Then he mocked making a low whistle, without actually doing it, and mouthed the word, "Nice" while nodding his head and giving me a thumbs up, before walking away and melting into the crowd.  I watched him with bland eyes, neither approving nor condemning the action, but mostly just thinking "What the fuck?"


I believe it was some sort of compliment.


Either way, I didn't miss a beat.


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