"Hello, I've Waited Here For You Everlong" or The Strange Way We Make Our Fate

It was 7 years ago.

I was living with one of my buddies and working security and just "celebrating" a year of being single again. I put it in quotes because I was still very, very not okay then.

I passed BFE Rock Club on my way home from getting paid or something and saw "Open Mic" on the marquee. I thought, "Why not? I'm off tonight..." as I drove home. I had started doing crappy YouTube cover song videos, like one does in 2010. I felt like I was missing something. I needed to play in front of people. It was a flame, and I was most certainly a moth.

That was the night I met Series Six. Those boys --my lord, they were all babies back then-- stole me from second one. These showmen varied in age from 12-17, and they put on a higher energy show than I'd seen Puddle of Mudd do. And I loved Buzzfest 13. Just sayin'.

And they were cool. Cooler than I was, at their age or at that time. They played like they were the house band, or like they had 100,000 people watching, or like no one was. I couldn't figure it out, but I was mesmerized.

Then, it was my turn. Me, the new guy with his guitar-that-don't-plug-in.

I still remember that first time on stage alone. I remember it every time I perform. The anxiety, the joy. I'd been on stage probably 100 times before that. As a piece of a large ensemble. Or even the one time with guitars with a friend jamming Wonderwall for a talent show at church. But this. This was different. And scary. And beautiful.

Rich the Sound God and Stone Cold Spencer set the mics for me and my acoustic. They spot lit me, and everything went quiet. It was all mine. The stage, the air, the whole bar belonged to me for that 20 or so minutes.

And those baby boys, and their rockin' daddy, came up to the front and just watched me. They just stood there and stared at me like I'm sure I was just doing to them not 5 minutes prior. It was, simply, the greatest thing that had happened to me that year.

Then it was over.

And it began.

The baby boys and their dad became Jeff, Logan, Nick, Shelby, David, and Devin. Stone Cold Spencer became, well, still Stone Cold (but he sometimes tells me I have the voice of an angel). I met Frankie and Shane and Connie and Gary and a whole host of others because, one day, I decided to take a chance on some little divey rock bar I saw on my drive home.

Because of all of you, I found out how much music truly means to my well-being.

Thank every single one of you. Especially those of you I didn't mention. I remember it all. You've all made my life, if not better, at least "more interesting." As Harvey Danger once said, "If you're bored then you're boring."

And y'all never have been boring.

I still love you.

Keep going.

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