Downer

“So what you’re saying,” she said, “is that you’re really into your head right now.”

We were in the basement of The Knitting Factory. Chris Abad, was setting up on stage. I had just finished a three minute rant in response to Chris’ fiance, Megan’s, simple inquiry of “How are you?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “In a phrase, I guess I am.”

She politely walked off, leaving me to luke warm beer in a plastic cup.

Chris, Tony and Walker (3/4 of the now defunct Dough) played a spectacular set. I sat in the front row, tapping my Chuck’s to the band’s groove, one well-earned through familiarity and time. His newest tune, “Downer,” nailed something spot on.

All this time I didn’t mean to be a downer
This time I didn’t mean to ruin your day
This time I didn’t mean to be a downer
I’ll try not to drag you down
Drag you down deep in the dregs

I called Abbi en route to the show.

“You should see the sky. It’s just outrageous: all windswept, blues and whites, totally swirling and chaotic. It’s changing. It doesn’t even know its own forecast.”

“Neat,” she deadpanned.

I paused, scanning Canal for traffic.

“I’m sorry. I’m in that postpartum, post-gig space.”

“So… you’re into your head again.”

“Yeah,” I said, stepping into shadows. “I guess so.”