Guess You Had To Be There

      It is I, once again. Who want’s a story? If you wanna hear one, I have a funny one. To me it’s funny, anyways. You all might be reading this and shaking your heads. Thinking to yourselves, “Damian’s gonna try comedy again, run for the hills before he gets started.”
 
      I never promised good comedy, folks. For some reason a, Joey G, story popped in my head today and I started laughing out loud. So, I thought I’d share.  
 
      First off, he a self-confessed hypochondriac. I mean if he goes down a rabbit hole, hears about a health scare, it puts him on edge.  
 
      Then if he get’s a sore throat, has strange diarrhea, body aches, or he stubs his fucking toe, and it should have been healed by now, it somehow means he has cancer. I’m serious, folks.
 
      Then I gotta talk him off the ledge, because he’s convinced himself he’s dying and only has a few months to live. Of course he doesn’t tell me this till I’m intoxicated.
 
       Can’t just get up and leave, might end up in jail or kill someone. I’m fucked, people. So no songs get wrote whatever weekend this dilemma goes down on. I have to save the day, or pass out from drinking too much.  
 
      Usually, I had him talked down before I crashed, or at least calm enough he wasn’t going to harm himself or me. Looking back now, I sometimes wonder how much of risk I took doing that.  
 
      Who knows? He got really scary at the end of our friendship. Always a gun in the house, just sayin’. I’m doing it again, I know. I went on a tangent. Let’s end on a comical note though, shall we.  
 
      Right, after I quit being the frontman for, DeadLove, Joey G and my brother Garrett formed another band with some guys on the scene.  
 
      I can’t for personal reasons share the real band name. I penned lyrics for three of their songs, and wrote half the lyrics on another song. Also, there is peace at the moment so I don’t want more turmoil.
 
      Let’s just call them “Clusterfuck or CF” because that name is fitting on some accounts I won’t go into right now. The place they practiced at, was about a 45 minute drive into the city. I always rode to practice with Garrett.
 
      I went to the practices and was kinda the sounding board and occasionally pitched ideas. Until I didn’t, again another off ramp. I’m staying on track. Garrett and I always arrived first or close to first, and we had the keys to get in.
 
      Every Sunday was band practice. Unless announced otherwise. So we show up early because Garrett has to set up his drums. He liked to be about 15 minutes early so that their would be more playing time.  
 
      Whether writing a new song happened or not they went through what became the set-list. Anyways we set up the P.A. and the drums. Bass player shows up, other guitar player shows up, they set up. Check sound levels, etc.
 
      No, Joey G. I try calling him while they’re jamming a little. He’s not picking up, I’m leaving voicemails. Asking him what’s the deal? My brother and the others come outside to smoke a cigarette.
 
      If we were able to text we were doing that too. Memories run together sometimes. 20 minutes had passed. Practice typically ran from like 11:30 in the morning till about 3:30 in the afternoon.
 
      We all traveled to the city except, Joey G. Who lived in the city. lol. My brother was getting ready to hop in the truck and go to his apartment.  
 
      When contact is finally made. He overslept and was hopping in the shower. We’re figuring 20 minutes tops. And it’s approaching 12:30. My brother hates wasting practice time. I know this.  
 
      I offer to sing the two songs I helped write, because I know all the words, and I know the vocal melody. So that’s what we do. Garrett wants to work on a transition in one of those songs anyways. It’s a no brainer, that’s what we do.
 
      Joey G, shows up like 2:45. My brother is silently seething behind the drum-kit, twirling the drumsticks between his fingers with a piercing stare. Joey, walks in with his arm in a homemade sling, and with his wrist heavily wrapped.  
 
      Before he can even utter a word, my brother cuts him off. I’ll paraphrase my brother’s words: “Joey, I don’t give a fuck what your excuse is for showing up this late. Obviously, you won’t be playing guitar, but you can sing. No wasting time let’s at least run through the set-list. Give me that at least.”
 
      That’s what they did all 7 songs. Which took about 20 minutes. After they finish the last song, the other guitar player gets a call from his wife. He’s gotta go. My brother tells him go ahead and go, and let’s just call practice done.  
 
      My brother starts disassembling his drums. Everyone starts breaking down gear, so we can leave. Applebee’s is calling, this is back when they had half-priced appetizers and drinks.  
 
      We always stopped on Sunday. Every since the city started serving on Sunday. That’s another story though. We, being Joey G, Garrett, and I.  
 
      My brother makes it clear to, Joey G. That he doesn’t wanna hear the story till he’s smoking a cigar and drinking a Maker’s and Coke. Long pour, short glass. lol.  
 
      Ok, here’s the funny part we’re at Applebee’s having drinks. My brother wants to hear his story. Sorry it took so long, folks.  
 
      I’m gonna end this with paraphrasing the conversation. The first letter of our name’s is how to keep with who’s talking.  
 
      G: Alright, Joey. What the fuck happened today? Why did I waste gas money to not get in a full practice.
 
      J: Before I went to bed last night around 4:30. I decided to do the dishes, because they had piled up. And I promised my girl, I would do them.
 
      D: What the fuck did you do? Did you get water on the floor, and take a spill?
 
      J: No, nothing like that. I didn’t fall there was no water on the floor.
 
      G: Then what the fuck did you do, you clumsy bastard?
 
      J: Nothing. I just washed a shit-ton of dishes, and hurt my back somehow. Fell asleep and over slept.
 
      D: Then what’s with the sling and the wrist stabilizer?
 
      J: Oh, that’s just my carpal tunnel acting up. This is the most comfortable position for some reason. I could of played guitar with the stabilizer on.
 
      G: How in the flying fuck do you hurt your back washing dishes?
 
      D: Is that even physically possible? I mean how long did it take you to fucking wash them?
 
      J: About 25 minutes straight. There was a lot, guys.
 
      G: My friend that is the most “Clusterfuck” explanation I’ve ever heard in my life.
 
      And there you have it folks. It was painfully longwinded tonight. I do apologize. I guess you had to be there. lol. Peace, Love, and Lennon.