Escalator Riding For Beginners

I used to think I was not on the shoreline, standing there forlorn, hands on hips, tsk-tsking everything and everyone else. I used to think all my relatives and the families of friends and even most if not all of my friends were all there on the shoreline, afraid of the deep dark ocean. That shoreline is nothing more or less than accepted society. The community. Civilisation. I used to think I alone had broken free somehow and was out on top of the ocean, swimming the breaststroke, ignoring the pleas of everyone else on the shoreline for me to come back to them where it was safe on sand. I did come back in to them regularly. To help with this or that. To guide, to give solace, to sing, to tell stories, to tell them they were all okay. But I would always return to the sea, to the dark, to the universe that had ushered me forth. Mainly I kept swimming, floating, and when darkness fell and the pleas from the shoreline got louder and more intense, more plaintive, at that point I woul...

"The Dark Star Open Mic Night" So I drive to Darmstadt, right? I drive there - 188 km- find a place to park my car (hahahahahaa ahahahahahaha) and go into the building that houses the Irish pub where I am gonna play a couple songs at this Open Mic. 

 Fuck it.

 Dudes. 

It was sick. 

 No…

I mean it in the way the word was intended to mean...

It really was ill.

 There were pale heads floating about in dark clothes and angular dyed-black hair, you know, like it was Emoville, and their feet weren't touching the ground when they walked. They were already dead, dude. Ghosts. Corpses. And cool as fuck.

 And they all floated around in twos, not singles or threes, and just thinking about the significance of that made my ears melt right off. 

At the open mic night there is a massive stage that could have used a good vacuum back during the Carter administration. It sat like an alien bunker at one end of this giant underground basement, see. On this stage there is enough r...