Thursday July 22 • 16:24

mood: slightly stunned, thank you
song: “Too ba-ad you wore that t-shirt…” Clinton and Stacy

What a day.

I have just finished doing my hair. Wash, dry, mist with chemicals, flat iron, repeat. I do this every time I have a show. Why?

A. Because it is the new style I got from WNTW and I like it
B. Because it makes me sound better
C. Because I’m chaetophobic
D. None of the above


Not even a week after the whole “What Not To Wear” showdown and I find myself here, writing to you, slightly stunned. (Yes, my episode of WNTW aired after much anticipation, Friday, July 16th at 9pm. [Not sure what I mean by “WNTW”? Please see March Blog])

We had a viewing party that night — I gave up my John Mayer tickets with some reluctance — got a projector and threw up a screen at a wall in Ireland’s 32 in San Francisco. We invited friends and watched the clock together. Like New Year’s in July we waited, 5… 4… 3… 2… bing! We have lift off, the cookies are done!

It’s weird when you’ve been waiting so long, and then all of a sudden it’s there, there on the TV Guide, there on my TV screen, there being fed into my brain through my eyes then flipped upside down atop my retinas…

“That is me on TV,” I kept thinking — turning it over like a chant in my mind: “This is so weird, this is so weird…” I kept thinking I would wake up — I’ve had some pretty strange dreams. But, when I got home that night, it was still real, when I went to sleep it was still real, woke up the next morning — still real.

Whoa.

“The guestbook on the web site crashed last night,” said Mike, my guitarist. We had not anticipated this happening. It was traffic! People found us! How, I don’t know — Google? TiVo?

It’s an exciting thing to be one day trying to sell CDs and the next day trying to keep them in stock. My blood is rushing at full speed, excitedly frolicking through my body, saying whoop-ti-doo! And splashing around — all those things you do when you’re excited.

It’s hard work to realize dreams.

I just hope I don’t discover that it’s not real.

Yours,
megan

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Wednesday July 7 • 20:23

mood: sleepy am I
song: "Clarity," John Mayer

I’ve had two slices of some of the best pizza I’ve had in a long time. It came from a little place just up the hill from Ireland’s 32 in SF where the band and I had played a loud one hour set of tunes. And since my buddies, the Mundaze, were up next, I had taken the band switch-over as an opportunity to get me some food. I can’t even remember the name of the place, but it’s one of those cool, New York Style, by-the-slice, kind of places. Good stuff.

So the night wears on. The Mundaze are hot as usual. The most jammin’ band I know. Their set ends, it’s late, we all pack up. By this time my own band is gone — I like to stick around to the end of the night — I’m a night owl.

Or am I?

It’s only about 1:00am and I’m already feeling a bit tired… And I have a whole hour to drive before I get back home.

But it’s no problem. The night is clear. The truck is cold. The music is really good. But jeeze, I am really tired. Really, no problem.

I’ll turn up the tunes.

I’ll roll down the window.

I’ll sing to all of the guitar solos and harmonies.

I think I’m doing a pretty good job of keeping awake. And by the time I get to John Mayer I’m already in Livermore — just 30 minutes to go. Yawn. But, the freeway is lonely — dotted with a car here and there. I just need some energy for the last leg of the trip.

I start to drum on the steering wheel. High hats — snare’s my lap. Kick is my heel on the floorboards. This sounds great, and it’s keeping me awake. I start to roll out the fills violently in the air. I am so bad ass!

And oh so in trouble.

With angry red and blue lights behind me, I pull off at the next exit, following the instructions of the police car tailing me. I park. He walks up to the window.

“You were weaving,” he leans his head into my car.

And I immediately burst into tears.

He asks if I had been drinking. I hadn’t. Asks if I am tired. I guess so. We have a nice chat — I get to do the little “follow my finger with your eyes” thing. “You don’t appear to be intoxicated. Don’t cry it’s okay.” He is really nice. Go get yourself a cold soda, and most importantly, pull over, walk around the car, take a nap if you think you’re too tired to drive, he says. You’re too young to end your life and your career by falling asleep on the road.

I didn’t tell him about the music…

But that, my friends, was the end of my career as a drummer.

Yours,
megan

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