Really, it does! I’m gonna tell you why – but first I have to write this damned intro.
There are days I regret writing those intros. If I don’t do it, the front page looks horrible. Why? ‘Cause I’m pretty damned verbose, that’s why! Now, if I don’t do it, it’ll just be wrong.
First, I’ll tell you about yesterday – and that’ll be my intro.
I had very little notice before people wanted me to trek halfway across the State. Knowing that this was a foolish mission to attempt while sober, I secured myself a driver. Then, I fixed that sobriety thing. I fixed it pretty well, actually.
It was at that point that I spoke with one of the people who regularly comments and reads the site.
His name is @crazy_eyes.
He showed up yesterday, in a thread that started on Friday, and posted a track – of screaming.
This, of course, made me want to hear the story. Situations like the one I just described do not occur without also having a story.
On top of this, @crazy_eyes has been there for the start of nearly as many weekly guitar threads as I have. If not, he almost always turns up – and has from the beginning.
His story was so awesome, that I asked for permission to share it with you.
But that’s not important – for the intro. No, for the sake of this intro, that’s what prompted me to follow his shining example and used yesterday as an excuse to say, “Fuck you, I.m a rock star!”
I called my drummer back up and said I wasn’t going and that I’ll go today. I invited ’em over to get shitfaced with me. Sadly for those around us, we drunkenly found excuses to repeat that phrase, “Fuck you. I’m a rock star!”
This amused us and we discussed the future of the band long into the evening. That discussion could fill an article by itself.
I should probably also use this platform as an opportunity to apologize to the drummer’s wife. She’s a nice lady and puts up with some shit. Yes, I claimed an entire pie and should apologize.
Not gonna. Why? “Fuck you. I’m a rock star!”
Bizarre as this might seem, that actually has to do with today’s article.
Crazy_eyes is inspirational!
To try to label him as a ‘rock star’ would be a bit of a misnomer. Despite not technically being a rock star, he’s got himself some aspirations.
Sure… Rolling Stone gets actual rock stars – but we get something better.
I should back up….
Crazy gives no shits. None. This, of course, makes for great entertainment – and we are entertainers.
No, in any given weekly guitar thread, you may find him sharing tracks that include people falling out of chairs, random singers who don’t know the words, and a magical creature known only as Verle.
I don’t actually know Verle, but I’m pretty sure he’s a national treasure.
For the briefest of times, Crazy was performing at a local bar. This was, of course, awesome. For a tiny moment, he was was a rock star.
See, he just loves playin’ and singing you his songs – which have such subjects as beer drinking, women, and more beer drinking.
In other words, he has a dream that he’s a rock star – and is actively working to pursue that dream. I’m telling ya, he’s fucking inspirational!
I should explain that…
Ol’ Crazy lives his life as though he’s a rock star.
That’s a horrible way to explain it… It’s not my story, but I’ll try to tell it.
Many years ago, he got himself a real job and used that money to buy some tickets to some rock concerts.
When he saw EVH (?) on stage. he immediately made up his mind that he was gonna learn to play guitar. Like the next day, he bought himself a Washburn with which to play bitchin’ solos.
And while the details are kind of fuzzy, I’m pretty sure he’s been busy perfecting the rock star lifestyle ever since. I’m telling you, he’s inspirational!
If I didn’t tell you that, this next part probably wouldn’t make any sense!
What this means is that, if you poke crazy_eyes enough, they’ll tell you a story. This is behavior to be encouraged.
In fact, I’ve finally decided to mark this down as a “Lesson.” Why? Because he’s gonna tell you how to live like a rock star.
The following is gonna require some editing. I have permission to edit what he wrote. It is not verbatim. I have edited it only for readability and spelling/punctuation.
The saga begins…
Four days after the thread opened, I got a reply from @crazy_eyes. It was simply a link to this:
My near immediate response was:
That’s a story.
He agreed, but didn’t immediately offer a story.
Anyone who’s familiar with this can easily identify that as a Verle scream and Crazy disappeared on Friday. I seem to recall he said he was being kidnapped. (This is not cause for alarm, it’s actually pretty normal for him.)
A little bit of prodding produced the story – which I shall now recount:
That was a Verle scream! I couldn’t scream like that if I wanted to. You know how I always say that I need a singer, I already have two of them. Apparently I want to collect singers like I do girlfriends. LOL.
So Friday afternoon I was at home and going to upload some music for this here thread, when there’s a knock at my door and a woman who wants me was knocking. So what the hell, I get in her car with her.
We went out to eat and some drinks for a while then we went back to her house and I spent the night with her. She had to work early Saturday morning and she told me that she would give me a ride back home when she was done with her work Saturday morning.
Anyways, she got up and left at 4 AM and I went back to sleep. She was supposed to be back around 8AM to give me a ride back home, but I woke up at 10AM in her bed in an empty house.
What the hell? My phone battery was dead, of course, and she doesn’t have a phone charger that I can use. So I turn on the TV and wait.
She comes walking in about an hour later, all covered in sweat and looking exhausted.
Apparently she got pulled over driving to where she works and she was not driving in her prescribed driving hours, as she only has an occupational license. So she just wants to go to bed, she doesn’t have a car to bring me home. So we just spent the day in bed together.
That’s fine with me. Let’s mate baby.
So Sunday morning comes and she wakes me up asking me why I’m hard when I’m asleep, how can I sleep with a hard on, she wants it.
So that fine good morning greeting, she starts asking me questions about these other women that I see. I don’t ever want to have these kind of conversations with her, you know?
So it turns into an argument. Making a good morning turn bad.
That’s my queue to get the hell out of there, I got dressed, and got the fuck out of there.
That wasn’t easy, believe me. But I did it.
So now I have a 15 mile hike to home, and I am all pissed off. Fuck! I decide to take a detour and stop over by Verle’s house on my walk home for a bit of an attitude adjustment.
I get over by Verle’s house and he says that he has a surprise for me.
My other blonde girlfriend is sleeping in his living room.
She was kicked out of where she was living and didn’t have anywhere to go so she asked Verle if she could crash on his couch and, being the nice man that he is, he obliged her.
Well she was so happy to see me. She couldn’t keep her hands off of me.
She works for a hotel chain, so she gets discounts on rooms and so, after I got stoned with Verle, I took her and got a room at one of her chain motels and stayed there with her until this morning.
I am not sure how exciting this story is from your end. But it was a pretty good holiday weekend for me!
I tell you something about that Verle, before I met him I only had one girlfriend, since I have known him that number keeps on growing. At least three of them I met at his house.
I told you, he’s a motherfucking inspiration.
It doesn’t stop there! Oh, no… No, it does not!
After I read that story, I immediately knew that I wanted to secure permission to use it as an article. He agreed, and eventually said this:
One of your articles over the weekend, that I finally got to read today, gave me an idea. It’s not for an article, but it’s an idea for me. You mentioned about the people that work in venues where bands play also seem to be musicians, maybe I can find someone to jam my songs with at a place like that?
To which I responded:
Here is what I just read:
“I am going to go to the bar and call it research.”
I, of course, approve of this plan!
As I lamented having to go to do some work, I asked myself WWCD (What Would Crazy Do)? I could only conclude that he’d say, “Fuck you. I’m a rock star.”
It turned out to be a pretty good decision! Lest you argue that it was a bad decision, I offer this: Let’s have a quick show of hands. Who here has an entire raspberry pie?
I consider that matter completely settled!
Rolling Stone has readers who think Hendrix was the greatest guitarist. We have readers who are goddamned inspirations. If this were a just society, Crazy Eyes wouldn’t be working today, he’d be having a ticker-tape parade thrown in his honor!
Alas, nobody lets me make the rules for society.
In all seriousness, he’s got a dream. He’s been working on this dream for decades. He’s probably never going to have an album go gold, but I’m pretty sure I know what his response is going to be to this article. “Fuck you. I’m a rock star!”
You non-musicians can swap out “rock star” with something else. It’s your box of crayons and you can eat them in any order you want. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. Dare to dream – but don’t forget that dreams take dedication and effort. That guitar isn’t going to learn to play itself. And, speaking of effort…
Until next time…
Shut up and play us a song!