so i opened up my box this morning and got a note from 9:30 club re: Bob Dylan and Co playing in D.C. on Tues.

as i surfed, i found out that the Smashing Pumpkins are still touring and going to be out there.

the fucking Pumpkins. i was old and dried by the time they arrived but they did it as nicely as any, and i’ve seen many, heard most.

those songs. yes, the radio friendly ones. i am not and never have been so cooler than thou that i turn my nose up at success.

i swear to god i know EXACTLY what billy was feelin’ when he asked if i could fake it for one more show. i pray that this feelin’ doesn’t increase as exponentially as it has so far as the years snap at my greying skinny ass.

as for 1979? well, i was 19. AND ALIVE. nostalgia has sent my substance abuse on several greatest hits tours, but GODDAM it was UNRULY. trippin’ on acid, goin’ to the same classic rock shows that gave billy his inspiration.

couldn’t “shake them zipper blues”. i dunno. to me this line memorialized all that sexual angst i didn’t know what to do with. my frustrated extended adolescence including too few girls, but i didn’t know the cure to that then.

skip ahead to after i got divorced. it wasn’t until that time that i knew girls, who were by now women, actually wanted me and liked my weirdness. this was another blossoming of the magic.

after that, i guess god died. karma running over dogma, and i lost faith.

it’s absolutely pathetic, but that music, most of the rock that i listen to, gives me more reason to hop and believe than anything else. i just re-read that line and noticed my typo. sometimes god’s hand is typing.

hop and believe, by the jimihindrancexperience.

#music