room for nothing

Playing live can be the most exhilirating thing in the world. There comes a point, when a band is hitting on all cylinders, that you stop thinking and doing. Everything becomes a feeling, and you're absorbed by the music and songs. Life is narrowed to a singular purpose: all you have to do is rock. Beautiful, cathartic simplicity. One momentary blast of inspired rock n' roll and all the quotidian minutiae just melts away.

There is no context for something like that. At that precise moment, nothing really matters except the moment itself.

Last Thursday, I was still getting over a cold. I was sick, tired, and basically miserable. During our set, just about everything that could have gone wrong did. Blown fuses, short-circuiting microphones, faulty cables...

But we (the Hat) managed to rock. It felt right.

I tend to be more global than specific in my thought processes, engaging in ongoing (but futile) attempts to determine if my everyday experiences mean anything holistically. So far as I can tell, there are only two things that can momentarily halt the overly active brain, allowing me to feel "centered":

1) Really intense shows
2) Really intense sex

There are (obviously) better, more important things in life, but only these two provide an intensity acute enough to actually clear some space in my head. These moments function as abstractions. I don't need to fit them into anything. I need more of these moments, if only because I greatly prefer this to this.

So...London...was it good for you?