The real sun is rising while mine begins to set

It's dawn and something is talking to me through the screen from the back yard. It's not often you can leave your slider open all night in Massachusetts during the month of November. It sounds like a crow or raven. A rolling sound in the throat. An interrogative. I don't know, brother. I don't know. 

Thank you for  the extra hour of sleep. I spent it dreaming about eating pizza with people I didn't know and and appreciating ballads sung by Bobby Vinton with one of them. I woke up thinking about how ABC managed to perpetrate a freudian slip that insulted the entire Indigenous world and how I'll likely never marry again. 

Friday night, I went out to listen to a band play. It was a weird night. Saturday was spent recovering. My ears are still ringing. I woke up Saturday feeling outside of it all. Like there's nothing for me here. That feeling stayed all day and was  confirmed by everything I saw on the internet.

It's tongue in cheek, the Mr. Lonely thing. Nothing's in earnest, or honest. It's a prank. It''s ironic. It'''s sarcastic. Which means it comes from someone hopelessly lost, terrified and adrift. 

I was watching a band play. Old grey wizened biker dudes playing heavy guitar-driven stuff. They've been at it for almost 50 years. Admirable and still ferocious. I was standing close to the front, dancing in place, trying to show my appreciation. You see, a show like this in a small room requires reciprocity for the desired transformation to take place. When the band puts out, you move to show your appreciation. That's your part in the process. You don't hold your phone up and document a moment that you'll never actually look at again for the sake of posting to gain momentary cool. That's not why we're here. It's a sort of atheist's communion for a relatively small group of people. 

Some youngster attacked me from behind. Grabbed me around the legs below the knees and pile drove me into the stage and kept driving. Somehow we ended up on the floor against which I held his head and punched it once. He came up smiling, so I'm pretty sure he was ok, but he simmered down a little after that. I'm not the guy who punches people at shows though. That's not me. My ears are still  ringing too.