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Friday, March 20, 2009

jam out with your jam out

Things are moving fast again because I'm out of vacation days at work and Improv Aslyum shows are in full swing. Plus, I had some guests in town this week.

Thursday during a lunchtime in-service on pap smears I got this phone call from Jay "Action" Petrone:

Jay: Hey. I'm in Connecticut on a road trip with a friend. Can I-
Me: Sure!
Jay: (laughs) Well then. That's all. I'm not giving you any other details.
Me: That's fine. I already put the key in your pocket.
Jay: Good. I copied it and gave it all all my friend's friends.
Me: They better be hot.
Jay: Seriously. It's tonight.
Me: Even better. I have some other guests staying over whom you know very well.

Agent Heart* and one Mr. Brennan Clark came to see my show that same night and afterwards we were met by Jay and his friend Chris. The timing was perfect. We all got to JP at the same time.

I showed the boys around my digs (of the group only Brennan has been there) and then we stayed up and spent some time in my living room making music. You know, like people do.

All day long my veins had been electrified by anxiety. I was worried about making it to the theater on time due to some scheduling problems. I didn't want to let anyone down. Not my cast, my patients or my co workers. The adrenaline was actually physically overwhelming. The taxi I hailed at 6:45pm might as well have been a spaceship. Doing a show helped, but I still had plenty of energy to burn off, and I needed something to unwind my chest muscles.

Two guitars, one harmonica and as many of the words to Sweet Home Alabama as we could remember or make up, and that's all we needed. We played and sang for a couple of hours; it made my chest cavity feel light and empty. I didn't stop smiling. It reminded me of college, where I took so many similar nights for granted.

The night in its entirety made me some of the happiest and burden free I have felt in quite a while. From getting out of the show to the first time I opened my eyes in the morning it was like nothing else mattered, and like nothing could go wrong.

In the morning we all had breakfast at Java Jo's and then I took everyone on a tour of one of my other favorite places, The Forest Hills Cemetery. I showed off e.e. cummings' grave ad some of the best sculptures, and we tried to find Fern Hill with no luck. "It's super spooky," I promised, "I just can't find it right now."

They've all left; I just got home from dropping one of them off at his parents' house to spend the last night of spring break. It'll be nice to go to bed early for the long day ahead of me tomorrow (work, church and then two shows). Still, I can't help but feel a little bit lonely in the quiet. I wish that every night could have guitars and harmonicas - no drama or stress, just a ton of laughing, feeling safe and happy and being surrounded by love.

And I wish that for everyone. Because I know there are people who experience it even less frequently than I get to. Or maybe not ever, not even at all.

* I'd use his real name too, but in his blog he gave me a code name which I think is bad-ass and awesome.

1 comment:

Shannon said...

Sometimes a little bit lonely is too loud for me. Let me know if you need ear plugs.