Hot Dogs = Drumming Nightmares
Emily High Sticking, originally uploaded by emilyrems.Last night after work, LCF took me out for a romantical post-birthday-dinner of “Recession Specials” at Gray’s Papaya, and afterwards when I landed back on our couch, I drifted immediately off into a world of anxiety dreams. I know I have ‘em all the time anyway, but today I chose to blame the dawgs.
In my dream, I was in the tiny town in NY where I grew up because my parents had moved back into my childhood home, and they had invited Royal Pink to play a concert at the church/community center across the street from our old house. My whole band had lugged all of our equipment into the community room of the church where I used to take kiddie aerobics classes back in the day, and as I unpacked, I realized I had forgotten the bass pedal just like we did for real at our Lit Lounge gig last week. When I discovered I had forgotten it, I flew into a rage and started throwing all my cymbals around and throwing a temper tantrum. My band-mates were scared to come near me and my parents looked embarassed. Since there were no other bands on the bill besides us, I asked my dad to help me find a phone book and to help me find local music stores we could get to in time for the gig. My dad was helpful, but was also moving very slowly and kept getting distracted by other things so I got impatient with him and yelled at him and then felt incredibly guilty for yelling at him when he was trying to help. I was just about to start begging rides to look for a music store without him when someone from the congregation came over to me with a bass pedal she had taken off of her son’s kit when she heard about our difficulty. I was so grateful and so ashamed for acting like an asshole to everyone that I started crying big stressed out tears, and I was still crying when I woke up.