Jammin congas with Jon French. That's where.
Well here I am Bloggin again. I don't have mad Madden skillz like Fat Todd but I do have a very humble heart after the bomb ass stuff he said. That's all I can say about that... period.
Tonight's short blog is summed up quite quickly.... with the term humbled.
Last night the Shibs rocked the Alchemy. Small Small bar and we were told we were loud. I'm not going to go into it too much, not really worth it, but if you wanted to see Randy Shib fit in an elevator, you saw it last night.
So off to my point. Tonight I went to Heathers with Jillian and Andi (not Fat Todd, the Judo Champion (not making that up)). Johnny was working and he pours a drink... well a WICKED drink. We leave there and head down to the Waters Edge... this lil dive in Stoughton. Cool Front was playing there and Ironically, this was the first place I had ever jammed live 9 years ago now.... with this band. So, by law, I had to go.
While Jillian took Andi home, this very drunk guy comes up to me, asks if I'm Mike Jr. and proceeds to tell me words that I will never forget. After he confirmed that I'm a midget racer, he tells me that my pops told him that the night I won my first feature was the best day of his life. Now pops never said anything of the sort to me... only said that I was fucking crazy (anyone who reads the blog could have said that) for racing and I should just play some harmonica. Well I am pops... I'm playing some harp. And if your listening... I'm playin the blues for you.
In the end, I jammed some Santana again, Colin thanks for helping me learn the congas Err C-Boogie, and the night was good..... but the random stranger put a tear in my eye... and made me once again realize.. it's all perspective, we are still in the game, still part of the ride, and we should cherish that fact.
Till next time.....
Mouse
