I am terribly frustrated right now. I have so much anger in me that It feels like I am ready to explode. Why? Why do things have to be so darn hard? I want to play music and sing in order to a) stimulate my brain b) hopefully help my brain c) build my self-confidence a bit d) have some fun.
We haven't gone to open mic night for three months. When we went before, it was either jerks playing UNBELIEVABLY LOUD
and being worshipped, or several times it was just Brad and I playing for over 4 hours with a smattering of applause for one or two songs. Tonight was the cherry on the blasted sundae. We got there, expecting the usual crowd, a few friends and maybe some newer ones. It was professional band night. It was a coincidence, but jeez, there was an incredible jazz guitarist, the Bass player already plays well, a Phenomenal drummer, and the Bass players kid playing a Gibson so harsh and loud, that I couldn't help but wince when he took the leads.
I told the Bass player there was no way I was getting on stage after that. Not with my funky little ballads and only playing the mandolin for a bit over 4 weeks. Crap, I could not handle the idea of getting up and sounding tiny and not amped to vibrate cans off the tables. I just don't get that. It seems to be what they want. I am tempted to just hang it up, quit singing, sell all my gear and burn the sheet music and books. I would be creating a ton of space and probably do the world a lot of good.
I tried going to bed three hours ago, can't sleep, just keep rolling over what finally happened. I got the nerve up to try and sing a couple songs while Brad played. When I finished those, I went to the van to get a guitar cord to play a song on guitar and sing while Brad accompanied me. Brad comes out and tells me that some Fat guy just shut him down "So other people could get on stage". It was the FIRST BAND Again missing a few peeps and a new drummer. We did TWO SONGS. Fatboy isn't even in charge of the open mic gig. I was so very, very deeply angered. I just sat there and looked at the pictures on the walls until Brad had my gear put away and they finished, gotta clap for the musicians... unless it is us. Screw that bar, screw being told that they want us back, BUGGERIT!!!!!
Vampires have risen from the dead, the grave and the crypt, but have never managed it from the cat. ~ Witches Abroad