Long Lonely Drug

Rock and Roll.

The words are my wingman,

my friend,

my brother.

My affirmation of the present situation

always with a smile of stale beer and crooked teeth. I look at the inbox, the traffic, the fever and when I turn to myself I can mischievous grin rock and roll. The car is started the sunglasses are on the girl is in the passenger seat and

I hear rock and roll.

41 minutes.

That's the best weekend in the world, isn't it? It's the only thing that does the trick these days. There's no upper

or downer,

smoker or drinker, just a setlist and cymbals turned into lightning lava.

As long as the aud1ence has one person, 1t doesn't matter 1f they're alone or 1f they're wedged 1n w1th a hundred and fifty others.

And Saturday night was one for the record books:

I had a moderate fever, a bandaged hand, blistered fingers and a fiery throat. I was zombie tired from insomnia, sick from dinner and anxious as hell about the people staring up at me. I forgot my snare drum.

Frantic.

Manic!

I called my roommates and begged them to get into the cab I called moments before. "Tell the driver it's life or death." I promised to pay moments before realizing I was dead broke. Scrounging together fifty bucks from every person who knew my name was embarrassing and exhilarating.

(Fuckin shameful.)

And then, down the block, a black car racing the wrong way down the street...

.esrever ni

I ran to greet my drum and my roommates-turned-saviors. The show started and it ended. Sticks broke, strings bent and voices cracked and I just wanna say it, say the words, say it sayitsayitnowsayitohgodsaythewordsyessayitsayit

And now it's Monday. Monday is a state of mind not unlike "old man." A sunny Wednesday can be a Monday if a bird shits on your shoulder. My hand hurts more than it did last week, the pile of work at my desk had babies and

my watch is broken.

My bike is broken.

My girlfriend is gone.

The veggies have rotten.

Maggie is sick.

Peter's not gonna make it.

wait, too far, lost my concentration

oh yeah

The subway costs more and my meds are terrified of my anxiety. And yet for forty-one minutes on Saturday night, I was a God.

Say it out loud as you read it try it on don't be scared it won't bite but it might fuck your face

Rock

and

Roll.