benny's trying to make the ultimate mix for his set tonight at the bar. but he can't seem to whittle it down. he just keeps adding more and more songs and then freaking out about how he can't see how he's gonna bridge this one to that one. He's been at it for days.
i'm cutting up the dope into 8ball bags and i can hear him zipping through track after track. he only listens to about 25 seconds of each song before he decides yes or no. sometimes he'll get stuck on one song and it'll play over and over. sometimes i think i hear him crying.
he comes out looking frazzled and jumpy; as if it really matters what song he plays in what order. the joint's just a shithole with a zero soundsystem PA, one tap and a bunch of discount bourbon brands but for him i guess this is it. his big thing.
-- any beer left?
i nod over to the ice box and he pulls out a bottle and pops it open on the chipped edge of the counter.
-- what's that song you've been playing?
he tries to speak as he's taking a swig and beer coughs and bends over double--
-- hard times baby huey
he coughs and runs back to his room to start the song over and comes back out pantomining what i guess he thinks is funk dance move or something.
-- heavy shit right?
-- yeah man it's good. you gonna lead with that one?
he shakes his head like it's the biggest question he's ever had to wrestle with.
-- aw man... i just don't know. the first song is so key y'know? so key.
i laugh at him and lean back into the sofa, admiring all the little bags that have piled up. perfect little ziplocked snowstorms. when i look up, benny's looking far out the window and he goes:
-- this song makes me feel like i'm in charge of myself.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
oh that's so booszjer. i mean, really. <3
Post a Comment