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So now I have a Home before/after beat on the brat, beat on the brat, beat on the brat with a baseball bat, oh yeah, oooohhhh yeah. wandering lost in the human mire, is it true he who dies with the most toys wins?--finding a home ---- I was walking across the street alone carrying my guitar in case in one hand, wearing a nice white polyester shirt and blue pants when I head someone yell at me. "Lookit that asshole, carrying a guitar." It had been years and years and years since someone had blatantly disrspected me in public. So long, in fact, I completely ignored it. I didn't recognize. I walked into the coffee shop and plunked my case down, light still streamed through the big bay windows of the shop. "Large in a to-go cup. Mind if I play guitar?" I asked the coffee jerk in a quiet voice. "No, I don't mind," the coffee jerk replied quietly. And in that moment, they were on me, following me in from the street. Drunk, coked up obnoxious yuppies. Except the main violator wasn't even young. Grey haired. "Areyougonna'playguitar?Whatdoyouplay?Howlonghaveyoubeenplaying?Whatkindofguitardoyouhave?What'sthisinyourguitarcase?" He pressed in against me, the pressure was enormous, but I was in good spirits and so didn't mind overly much. He did, however grab my copy of 'the subterraneans' from my case, which was weird. I felt like saying something, but didn't. Sometimes you just gotta' ride people out. I barely had my guitar out of the case, I hadn't even found a place to sit or set up, and they were demanding songs, originals, covers. I played a blues riff that had been in my head to satisfy their chemical induced demands, and this seemed to satiate. They backed off and sat with friends at their table. Shortly, they demanded that I play with a piano in accompanyment. Well, why not. I can do anything musically. I'm a water-into-wine motherfucker when it comes to music. I can play with anybody and anything. A woman sat down behind the piano claiming to "only play at the church, we do a contemporary service", which was the second time I'd heard mention of this church, which made me think of cults, because most mainstream churches I know don't endorse cocaine and whiskey. If they did, I'd still be an altar boy. Shit, I'd be beatified. They'd give out medallions and pray to me. She sat down and I called out some chords for her to play. As I watched her hands to make sure she played the right chords, I couldn't help but notice that her yuppie husband had bought her a pair of the nicest, most perfectly shaped and proportional tits I'd ever seen. It was good work. Had to be, because tits just aren't that perfect in nature. We played for awhile, and I kept getting distracted by those tits. Thoughts of cumming on them. Wondering if she saw the lecher in my eyes as we made sliding eye contact as all musicians tend to do when you play. Sometimes the eye contact can be meaningful, sometimes not. "Honey, play like you play at home." her coked up yuppie husband opined. "I would,"she said, "But not in front of all these people." "There are no mistakes tonight." I said confidently. And she started playing, calling out some chords incorrectly. I figured it out and played well. Some of the yuppies sang along. And I kept sneaking peeks at her tits. She caught me once or twice. The second time she caught me dead in the eye, she looked over at her husband, who either didn't notice or gave her encouragement. She laughed and smiled and looked back at me. I think the experience turned her on. We played for awhile then quit to uprarious applause. The yuppies and the owner had put a bunch of cash in the tip jar. She was sweaty and flushed in the face when we finished. Her friends said their goodbyes. I demanded a hug and recieved one, trading names. They left and I met the owner, playing a bit more for him. A cool guy, doctor, from 'frisco in the sixties and seventies. Makes me wonder if he crossed paths with Jack K. He listened to me play for a little bit. "Anytime you want to come down and play is fine. Anytime." So now I have a home. Which home is always a state of mind.
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