Saturday, November 5, 2016

Before the Drugs, the Hookers, and the Private Jet Aircraft

You know it will be a rough gig when you have to share the dressing room with a horse and some chickens.

This was long before the private jet aircraft and the drugs and the hookers since everyone needs a start somewhere and mine was with a horse and some chickens.  I didn't realize the problem when they called the horse "Pharaoh" ... because he was leaving pyramids all over the floor.

Note:  stolen from Foster Brooks but it's ok because he was drunk.

I knew this was a gig I would never forget no matter how many political speeches I heard as I tried to wipe my mind of all conscious thought.


Ophir had invited me to come out to a bar so far outside the city it was only accessible by wagon train and that should have been another clue my future would have been better doing idiotic animations with Furby dolls for YouTube but that isn't how it was destined to go.

He was in a country band at the time and the horse and chickens may have been a clue to that.  Something which did not give a clue was he had said when he had asked about playing that he wanted to cover a song by Journey.




Then came my moment of glory with that little lead riff which has probably resulted in more suicides in listeners than financial crashes, devastating illness, or revelation in the news you ever knew Anthony Weiner.

Ed:  it caused suicides when you did it?

Nope, I went back to my chair after the song and some other country guy came up to ask me if I wanted to join his band so he at least didn't want to commit suicide.  I told him I couldn't do it because I was feeling like I was falling love with the horse in the dressing room ... plus I don't like Oxycontin anyway.

Ed:  Oxycontin hadn't even been invented yet!

That's true but I knew I wouldn't like it when they did invent it.  The Great God Mescalito, Lord of All Trippin' People, gave me that sage advice, "Never fall in love with a drug that can suck your balls and brain out through your ear."

Ed:  it can do that?

The Great God Mescalito had spoken and I know better than to question him.


That's how it went, see.  Ophir got me sucked into this life of music, hookers, and an expensive personal jet aircraft but then he fuckin' killed himself.

Ed:  lots of suicide in this story!

I'm tellin' you.  For you it's a twisted story but for me it's the Astronomer swinging around the wall and saying only, "Did you hear Ophir killed himself?"

Then he split.

Well, no, I had not heard that.


My own life continued on into the lights with the Galaxy Guitar and all the uptown jazz of luxury hotels, odd food I didn't really want to eat, and high-class hookers who knew every page of the Kama Sutra.

Of course, for every high flying life of that nature there comes the crash which leaves you with nothing, your life only a wasteland of devastating failure and empty packs of Marlboro cigarettes.


But I still hear Ophir sometimes saying, "Hey, you want to jam?"

Every time I say back, "Sure, man.  Let's go."


Ed:  how much of this is true?

Quite a lot of it, actually.  I never knew anyone named Ophir, tho.

Ed:  now I know that's bullshit!

Yah, you're right.  He was my friend and I'll never forget that crazy fuck.

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