Play this whilst reading.

8 11 2011 8 54 PM by Reid May

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Green Room

(Listen to audio here)

He was in a green room for a show that wasn't his own.  Drinking the the six pack that belonged to the performing band, he realized each one of his friends was in love with his girlfriend.

The wind was stronger than the air conditioner.  A stronger urge to return home hovered over his consciousness.  At least as strong, it was, as the knowledge that home was ordinary and he would want to be somewhere else in a matter of weeks.  A few weeks, if he's lucky, only because the length of time he was away might have allowed a different season to approach and take residence, and allow an opportunity for a change of scenery.  Even if there was no change in the weather, he was headed back now, with no plans of drastic destination changes.  He simply checked in online for his return flight, including the midway connection flight.

He might just walk out of the layover airport because he had never visited the state before, except on previous occasions of layover.

He noticed it was a bit warmer at home than when he left, which meant the winter that everybody was holding out for, being late and possibly extremely snow-storm ridden, didn't happen, and probably wouldn't.
He went to his coffee house to read and drink amongst the other locals, but he had no friends there and could only have short conversations with the Baristas that knew how to answer simple greetings with words instead of blank stares.

So he thought about his feelings of music ownership, creation, and piracy.  These beliefs of his would rotate about every six months from thinking everything is free, to the complete opposite, and everywhere imaginable in between.

Currently, he was sick of the iPod experience, except for listening to albums he physically owned.  He like the idea of buying CD's and holding on to them... again.  Soon enough, he will give them away or sell them because they are merely objects, and replaceable.  This act helps him move on to new music; being forced to, because he doesn't have the option to pull up something familiar and nice.

And to the Barista's defense, the job must suck!

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