2001-04-16 - 6:28 a.m.
Howdy,
It's the morning of the big drive back to Austin. Wow, this was a really good tour, even if I was sick for most of it. The Berkeley show ruled, except afterwards a woman walked up to me and said, "You don't remember me do you?"
"Uh, no."
"You played my benefit, I had cancer!"
"Wow, did you beat it?"
"Yes."
"That's great! Congratulations!" I gave her a big hug but then she said, "I can't believe you don't remember me!" I tried to explain to her that I drink a lot and my memory is for shit but she just kept getting madder. I apologized to her for not remembering her but she wouldn't accept it, then she berated me and stormed off. I really wanted to say something prophetic about her rudeness but I held my tongue. It made me very frustrated. It's not like we were old friends or anything, sure I played her benefit but if we met, it was only briefly. It's not like we had sex or even lunch. Her's wasn't the only benefit I've ever played. I had never had any contact with her except for the one occasion when she needed my help and I was glad to give it. Does that mean I'm supposed to remember who the fuck she is when she randomly pops up out of the blue in a strange town? I guess I'm feeling guilty for not remembering her but come on, I'm not Robotron the Braniac. I'm just a musician/poet who likes to travel and raise hell. Would it have killed her to come up to me and say, "Hey, we met once. You played my benefit when I had cancer. Well, I don't have cancer anymore. Isn't that great?" I think we probably would have had a much more enjoyable conversation if things had gone down in that fashion. Anyway, fuck it. Let's put it behind us, shall we?
We played a BBQ today for grins. Since it was Easter, we did a lot of gospel. It was fun. I got to hang out with some old friends and make some new ones (who I will no doubt have forgotten by the next time I get to the bay area, I hope they don't lynch me). Then I took a nap and ate some Thai food and here I am. Good as new. Ah well, wish me luck on the long drive home.
