These are titles for stories or possible chapters in my forth coming book:
the night they burned ol' dixie down (bonfire of my soul)
burn a highway, runaway
dont eat lucky charms
you big jerk!, or how isomura tricked me
a night of drinking, a day of yakuza
solitary confinement
bars, dogs, guns, a night of terror
jerry liked to jerk when i told stories
how a religious joke made AF history, not in a big way
my roommate liked wet dreams
the boy i tried to save
how mad can i get? chase a doctor and see
why do i love rasperberry nutrigrains?
four seasons in one day, hakoda road trip
brownies anyone?
stop stealing my car!
the heidelburg
hell house or whorehouse?
dj bj
this is why i'm going to hell, or the many reasons i don't believe in morality (namely yours!)
pizza and curry challenge
they've got a vending machine for that
my supervisor was a crook, makin pizza and makin money
lucy (lucifer) the cat
my biology teacher
algebra isn't for everyone, or how i became an office aide
winters, mr. winters
they forgot me in hawaii!
zero mountain
skipping school to play on a sunken barge in the mississippi
recycling, the devil's hands upon me
hardee's with Don Johnson
you shouldn't eat fast food, if you're a jerk
smells like a good boy sat here
you can't dress up as a maid for school
my uncles had no shame
my trial and first day in
freedom and IHOP
when you start a revolution be prepared for the blowback
breaking and entering, friends and forts
troy and his brother
the neighborhood isn't safe, we steal food and drinks
the No brothers
No, OD, Jason, and grandma
10th grade, living in the sewers
the neighbor girl was 9, i was 5, making adult movies
when you runaway you need mayo or honey sandwiches
ms. campbell
african violets
handicap kids make me cry and fight
what happens if you steal a farmer's truck?
the necto's basement party
an abandonded dorm, basement, and closet
drinking in my office, cops beg their pardon
watching my dirty movies with college buddies, in a theater
shameless, students, faculty, and staff
getting kicked out of the corner and my fight to get back in
getting kicked out of bars and coney's
when a dead dog grows out of the ground
the saddest halloween with my sister
meeting chris on swallow circle
the flood on swallow with jason
comley the crook
the nazarenes
elvira (lavina) and the art classes
grandma rose, rosie riveter, hawaii, hitchhiking, and nebraska
you can't joke with a veitnam vet
biking in mississippi
wire and can collecting in mississippi
the beer vending machine
waterbed sand
radio voice man, naked in the park, running away, shoplifting, pushing further away from home
blue volkswagon with home stereo speakers
melvyn comes back with a car for sis
dishwasher at Don and Lil's
Greyhound $49 or less
Fighting for my senior year
Building the set for the best high school play ever
Stealing signs, riding in the van
Sis goes to intensive care with "AIDS"
Sis and John, John's sis and I
trailer park life, second hand
shit creek road
devil's ice box
wildcat and the blue hole
the blue hole's winter dare
collecting cans on the beach, naked woman, riding bikes with John
My family has a reputation at the elementary school
I love Lucy is a fire hazard
Boys build forts and fight
Walking home from the mall, a stranger tries to grab us
Strangers from a car crash stumble in to our house
Waking up in a phone booth, 2 days later
I tried to sleep with a friend but almost got arrested for DUI
my neighbor stole christmas
dreams of reiko
getting caught stealing at the grocery store, but my plan works
trying to make mush with John stoned
the night our brakes stuck
driving across the desert in a beetle with suckers
no power no water, the creek
singing dr. hook in the beetle
the dog puddle, bubbles
rage against the machine, two men, one room, lots of blood
the day we couldn't say no to him
stro's party, and the guys from the reservation
the high train tracks
snowboarding with stro and the devil
the devil catches me with a camera after taco bell
the roof top party, over the bar
walking through the rain, saying goodbye
the devil, waterballons, kids, and an old woman
the devil and firecrackers
a small town, a large walleye, and the Doors
drowning with stro
the hail storm and brillo pads
getting stoned, russians, exercise, and nukes
i've never felt so alone before (in the desert)
coming home and the home was gone
getting a house with L and her cat
the party after the fire (you don't know EMO)
losing the best cat in the world
the grand hotel, best onsen on Earth
the big buddha, spinwheels
captain planet, enemy of the free peoples
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Instructions Not Included
Here is a story about the first weeks after arriving to my first duty assignment in the Air Force. In the military busy work could be anything from mowing lawns that don't
need to be mowed to renovating buildings on the cheap so the government
didn't have to hire contractors. Busy work happened all the time to
everyone and is a major part of GI life. The group of guys and girls I arrived with assigned to live in the same dorm were given the best busy work ever, but I didn't know it at the time. As a matter of fact, you could fill a yarmulke with the things I knew about my new life in the military right about then.
So, the morning comes for the band of brothers and sisters to report to the dorm manager to work for Uncle Sam and the washout sergeant in charge of our dorm gives us the assignment. We are to go across the field and help empty out another dorm that is going to be renovated.
Pardon my digression but I have to explain the washout sergeant. When you are progressing in a military career, earning stripes and responsibility, there are requirements in testing and merit that you must adhere to in order to progress, stay in your career of choice, and not get kicked out. Well, if you can't pass muster in one way or another, or maybe you piss off someone in leadership they will find a "Siberia" to send you to. One of those no-man's-lands is being a dorm manager.
Our group of about 20 or so men and women ranging in ages from 18 to 25 looked like that old Cocoa-Cola commercial "I want to buy the world a coke". We didn't really talk much and stood in the cold, morning sun outside the building we were directed to waiting for someone to come and guide us. After about half an hour another washout sergeant came out and divided us in to groups of 8 and directed us to separate floors.
The instructions were simple. Empty all the rooms of everything but curtains and carpet.
That was it.
The only other statement was that we had to be done by 4 pm.
I asked the tall guy next to me if he wanted to pair up and he said yes. We walked down the 3rd floor hallway about halfway and turned in to a room on our right. We started grabbing mattresses, bed frames, headboards, dressers, coat racks, night stands, lamps, and anything else that wasn't nailed down. We would walk down the hallway, get to the outdoor staircase, carry everything down the three flights of open air riveted steel steps. He and I were able to empty a room in about 45 minutes.
It was 10 o'clock and the morning wasn't being kind to us. Everyone we passed or stopped to talk to as we paused, sweating said the same thing...we aren't going to finish this in six hours. There was a sense of desperation, of confusion. Me and my partner paused at the bottom of the outdoor stairs where everyone had begun to lay down their furniture. A menagerie of items piled up in no discernible order. I stood there panting and thinking.
Just then someone threw a book off the stairs on the fourth floor. As the wind and velocity tore the pages from it and fluttered to the ground I pondered something.
My eyes passed from that fourth floor open door down to the stacks of furniture and piled mattresses.
Then I got it! An idea! We would finish in time after all!
I asked my partner to help me pull all the mattresses to the center right under the stairs off in the grass. As we got them in a pile similar to a bonfire I announced my plan.
He and I would go up to the room we were already emptying and start with the mattresses. We will toss them over the stairs and down the three flights to the pile we made below. If everything went without a hitch we would try heavy furniture. If that went well, we would tell everyone.
I can't say for certain about my partner but I know I was giddy. I ran up those stairs and down to the room. When he grabbed the other end of the mattress we almost trotted down the hallway. When we stood at the edge of the stairwell with a mattress stood on end I leaned over and yelled out "LOOK OUT BELOW!" as he tipped it over the edge.
A slow motion real whirred to life. The mattress made two revolutions around itself before striking the pile we had made below. When it struck it bent violently in half and then sprung back to shape and popped up in the air like a cheerleader after a goal. Again it fell back to Earth and laid on the pile and created a short bridge to some dressers.
I announced it as a success. Me and my partner went back to the room for a dresser. When we returned to the stairwell he was going to yell to clear the way and I was tipping. Several of the groups had stopped working after hearing our cries and the quick buzz that was spreading of what we had done. Half the workforce stood by as I lifted the dresser over the rails and dropped it down the many feet below. It made a nose dive and hit the pile center. It didn't bounce but twisted quickly on to its back and rested off to the right.
We had a plan!
Everyone was in!
Soon it wasn't work anymore. It was a line of people standing on the staircase with their respective pieces of furniture waiting for the chance to drop. Mattresses went flailing and then were pushed back in to the center of the newly burgeoning pile of furniture. We all took turns making walls of dressers around the mattress center to avoid any undo destruction. It took a few heavy furniture drops from the fourth floor for everyone to realize that anything hitting at the wrong angle could turn in to a projectile. Several times a group of people had to dive for cover as a 150 pound chest of drawers came at them after striking off center.
We lost a few pieces. Sometimes a night stand or dresser would land in the middle and stay there before being cleared when the next item was dropped.
What a mighty explosion of wood it would make. Some clapping and laughing would be had after such "accidents".
It took three hours for us to clear the whole building.
No one came back to check on us so we sat out in the grass for the remaining hours laughing and reminiscing about the best of the bounces, explosions, and scattershots.
Eventually both of the dorm managers came back to check on our progress. Their shock lasted for minutes. They walked through the building. The stood at the pile. Mouths agape.
Finally, one of them came to his senses and barked at everyone to line up in the parking lot...NOW!
We stood there as he walked the line yelling: WHY! WHO DID THIS! I WANT ANSWERS!
I stood firm and raised my hand. I said it was my idea and that I convinced everyone to follow along.
He yelled in my face for a good 10 minutes about the dismal state of the Air Force, their recruitment practices, my mental capacity, my mother's choices, my facial expressions, how I smelled, what he was going to do to me, what the Air Force was going to do to me, how much money was just wasted, how much trouble he was in, and how much trouble I was going to be in as long as he worked in the dorm and I lived there.
Eventually an officer showed up and dismissed everyone.
We went back to our rooms and cleaned up.
I waited for the other shoe to fall.
I waited for a police escort.
Gingerly I went to dinner at the chow hall. When everyone was clapping me on the back and laughing at dinner telling story after story I knew it was going to be alright.
Oh, dear reader, how I wish you could have been there.
So, the morning comes for the band of brothers and sisters to report to the dorm manager to work for Uncle Sam and the washout sergeant in charge of our dorm gives us the assignment. We are to go across the field and help empty out another dorm that is going to be renovated.
Pardon my digression but I have to explain the washout sergeant. When you are progressing in a military career, earning stripes and responsibility, there are requirements in testing and merit that you must adhere to in order to progress, stay in your career of choice, and not get kicked out. Well, if you can't pass muster in one way or another, or maybe you piss off someone in leadership they will find a "Siberia" to send you to. One of those no-man's-lands is being a dorm manager.
Our group of about 20 or so men and women ranging in ages from 18 to 25 looked like that old Cocoa-Cola commercial "I want to buy the world a coke". We didn't really talk much and stood in the cold, morning sun outside the building we were directed to waiting for someone to come and guide us. After about half an hour another washout sergeant came out and divided us in to groups of 8 and directed us to separate floors.
The instructions were simple. Empty all the rooms of everything but curtains and carpet.
That was it.
The only other statement was that we had to be done by 4 pm.
I asked the tall guy next to me if he wanted to pair up and he said yes. We walked down the 3rd floor hallway about halfway and turned in to a room on our right. We started grabbing mattresses, bed frames, headboards, dressers, coat racks, night stands, lamps, and anything else that wasn't nailed down. We would walk down the hallway, get to the outdoor staircase, carry everything down the three flights of open air riveted steel steps. He and I were able to empty a room in about 45 minutes.
It was 10 o'clock and the morning wasn't being kind to us. Everyone we passed or stopped to talk to as we paused, sweating said the same thing...we aren't going to finish this in six hours. There was a sense of desperation, of confusion. Me and my partner paused at the bottom of the outdoor stairs where everyone had begun to lay down their furniture. A menagerie of items piled up in no discernible order. I stood there panting and thinking.
Just then someone threw a book off the stairs on the fourth floor. As the wind and velocity tore the pages from it and fluttered to the ground I pondered something.
My eyes passed from that fourth floor open door down to the stacks of furniture and piled mattresses.
Then I got it! An idea! We would finish in time after all!
I asked my partner to help me pull all the mattresses to the center right under the stairs off in the grass. As we got them in a pile similar to a bonfire I announced my plan.
He and I would go up to the room we were already emptying and start with the mattresses. We will toss them over the stairs and down the three flights to the pile we made below. If everything went without a hitch we would try heavy furniture. If that went well, we would tell everyone.
I can't say for certain about my partner but I know I was giddy. I ran up those stairs and down to the room. When he grabbed the other end of the mattress we almost trotted down the hallway. When we stood at the edge of the stairwell with a mattress stood on end I leaned over and yelled out "LOOK OUT BELOW!" as he tipped it over the edge.
A slow motion real whirred to life. The mattress made two revolutions around itself before striking the pile we had made below. When it struck it bent violently in half and then sprung back to shape and popped up in the air like a cheerleader after a goal. Again it fell back to Earth and laid on the pile and created a short bridge to some dressers.
I announced it as a success. Me and my partner went back to the room for a dresser. When we returned to the stairwell he was going to yell to clear the way and I was tipping. Several of the groups had stopped working after hearing our cries and the quick buzz that was spreading of what we had done. Half the workforce stood by as I lifted the dresser over the rails and dropped it down the many feet below. It made a nose dive and hit the pile center. It didn't bounce but twisted quickly on to its back and rested off to the right.
We had a plan!
Everyone was in!
Soon it wasn't work anymore. It was a line of people standing on the staircase with their respective pieces of furniture waiting for the chance to drop. Mattresses went flailing and then were pushed back in to the center of the newly burgeoning pile of furniture. We all took turns making walls of dressers around the mattress center to avoid any undo destruction. It took a few heavy furniture drops from the fourth floor for everyone to realize that anything hitting at the wrong angle could turn in to a projectile. Several times a group of people had to dive for cover as a 150 pound chest of drawers came at them after striking off center.
We lost a few pieces. Sometimes a night stand or dresser would land in the middle and stay there before being cleared when the next item was dropped.
What a mighty explosion of wood it would make. Some clapping and laughing would be had after such "accidents".
It took three hours for us to clear the whole building.
No one came back to check on us so we sat out in the grass for the remaining hours laughing and reminiscing about the best of the bounces, explosions, and scattershots.
Eventually both of the dorm managers came back to check on our progress. Their shock lasted for minutes. They walked through the building. The stood at the pile. Mouths agape.
Finally, one of them came to his senses and barked at everyone to line up in the parking lot...NOW!
We stood there as he walked the line yelling: WHY! WHO DID THIS! I WANT ANSWERS!
I stood firm and raised my hand. I said it was my idea and that I convinced everyone to follow along.
He yelled in my face for a good 10 minutes about the dismal state of the Air Force, their recruitment practices, my mental capacity, my mother's choices, my facial expressions, how I smelled, what he was going to do to me, what the Air Force was going to do to me, how much money was just wasted, how much trouble he was in, and how much trouble I was going to be in as long as he worked in the dorm and I lived there.
Eventually an officer showed up and dismissed everyone.
We went back to our rooms and cleaned up.
I waited for the other shoe to fall.
I waited for a police escort.
Gingerly I went to dinner at the chow hall. When everyone was clapping me on the back and laughing at dinner telling story after story I knew it was going to be alright.
Oh, dear reader, how I wish you could have been there.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
DJ BJ
There comes a time in everyone's life were power, money, or aptitude allows corruption. This is a tale and an example of what lays just under the surface in all of us.
I was in my late twenties and enjoying the wonders of having been a man for almost ten years, holding a job more than 5, being in the same relationship over 2, and thinking I was King Shit of Turd Mountain. It was that pivotal moment when I could have easily found humility after earning so much but instead I chose hubris.
What really set this story in motion was a night out at a bar with friends listening to shitty music. We sat there complaining about each new song that seared into our heads. I kept saying "I could play better music than this!" until finally one of my inebriated friends finally said "Why don't you?". Most likely the intent there was to get me to shut up and move on, instead it was the catalyst for me to get up and approach the bar.
I went to the head honcho (or honchina, since it was a lady) and said something to effect of "This DJ sucks. No one is dancing. I can do a better job." She looked at me for a moment. A cool stare. Then she said come tomorrow and play for free and we'll see if you can do better.
I smiled like the Summer sun and shook her hand. I tried not to skip back to the table of drunken friends awaiting me but I'm sure there was a little fairy kick once on my way back. Once in the circle of adoring friends I told them I was going to right this sinking ship and show my chops. We drank, I talked shit. When I got home I went through every single CD I had and planned my big show.
The next morning books of CDs lay strewn across the floor as I sat cross-legged betwixt my computer popping in CDs and searching for the perfect mix. I did that all day. My set list changed so much that I stopped writing things down until I finally realized that I didn't even know what the hell I liked or planned on doing. I made up my mind to freestyle anyway, what with having replayed almost my entire catalog. I called all my friends and coworkers and told them to call everyone else and show up to my inaugural show.
They did. It was awesome.
I got the job as the DJ for one of the busiest clubs around.
Each time I got behind the booth and played for everyone it was the best feeling in the world. I felt like a doctor curing people's wounds. I felt the power of turning down suggestions and mocking those of inferior tastes. I got to say whatever I wanted while I was up there.
I could get someone laid with the right song and words.
Bored people turned to dancing idiots as I spun on.
Women that never glanced at me would try and use their powers to earn my trust and station. Then I could watch them dance and smile.
It was subversion and service. A blend of power and yielding. Bursts of joy and malignant humor.
Some of my favorite things were to have people come up and say something similar to "I haven't heard this song in forever!", "I love this. You are amazing!", and "I would do anything to hear...". Tips meant nothing to me. Coming up to my mixing board and asking for my talents did, especially if you stroked my ego.
Who doesn't like having their ego stroked? It's a hard thing to admit...for most. I didn't care either way as I didn't think of myself as a bad person per se, maybe somewhat South of selfish and a little East of perverted.
I had a girl at the time and she was pretty damn good. I was happy with my life and wasn't really in want of anything. So, it didn't seem wrong to let girls give me their numbers or ask me to come by later since I never actually did it. I thought of it as a harmless abuse of power. No one got hurt.
Until...
Saturday night and there were tons of people dancing and hanging out in my part of the bar. I had just played a Beastie Boys song to get all the men hype and on the floor. I used a gold standard slutty song to keep the men up and move all the women out too. There were boners and titties flying everywhere. Caligula would have approved of my methods. Hell, I was pretty turned on by the whole scene. The lights spinning. Music blaring. Young bodies sweating and emitting pheromones.
It was just such a night. Everything was turned up past 11 and I had so many requests and people standing at my booth that you could have told me I won the lotto and I wouldn't have listened. I had already found my place.
Then, she came up to the side door. I saw her blonde hair turning shades of green, red, and blue as the lights hit them. She was almost inside the booth before I put out an arm and put it to her shoulder to stop further entry. She looked down at my hand like I had hurt her feelings. She leaned towards me and asked for a song. I asked her to just write it down and motioned to my little clipboard out front. She held her free arm out and stood her ground. All the while smiling...eyes on me...lips wet.
She looked down and let her long hair spill down to cover her face and grabbed my arm that was holding her shoulder. Before I realized what was happening she was pulling herself in to me. I looked at her sidelong as I loaded another song up and yelled "What do you want?" and she dropped to her knees. Now, fully inside the booth the door shut and she was in darkness. I looked down at her barely lit face as she smiled a full set of teeth up at me and grabbed me from behind the knees.
I wish I could say I didn't get hard.
I want to say that I was offended by her forwardness and that I was committed to my partner so just such an aggression would not be tolerated.
What I have to say is I took a step closer to my controls and she shuffled along unzipping my pants.
As I watched the crowd dance, talk, yell, drink, and cavort she opened my pants and pulled them down just to the midway point of my buttocks and shoved my dick down her throat. In the darkness below me there were hands, lips, mouth, moisture, breath, and skin.
I was Dan Aykroyd from Ghostbusters.
When she was finished a song was still playing and no one was looking up at me.
I was flushed and sweating.
She stood up and kissed me quickly and walked back down to the main floor. I remember her looking at the clipboard and not writing a thing. Just picking it up and looking it over then walking back through the crowd.
I pulled my pants back up and played through the night.
My last song was The Band - Up On Cripple Creek.
I was in my late twenties and enjoying the wonders of having been a man for almost ten years, holding a job more than 5, being in the same relationship over 2, and thinking I was King Shit of Turd Mountain. It was that pivotal moment when I could have easily found humility after earning so much but instead I chose hubris.
What really set this story in motion was a night out at a bar with friends listening to shitty music. We sat there complaining about each new song that seared into our heads. I kept saying "I could play better music than this!" until finally one of my inebriated friends finally said "Why don't you?". Most likely the intent there was to get me to shut up and move on, instead it was the catalyst for me to get up and approach the bar.
I went to the head honcho (or honchina, since it was a lady) and said something to effect of "This DJ sucks. No one is dancing. I can do a better job." She looked at me for a moment. A cool stare. Then she said come tomorrow and play for free and we'll see if you can do better.
I smiled like the Summer sun and shook her hand. I tried not to skip back to the table of drunken friends awaiting me but I'm sure there was a little fairy kick once on my way back. Once in the circle of adoring friends I told them I was going to right this sinking ship and show my chops. We drank, I talked shit. When I got home I went through every single CD I had and planned my big show.
The next morning books of CDs lay strewn across the floor as I sat cross-legged betwixt my computer popping in CDs and searching for the perfect mix. I did that all day. My set list changed so much that I stopped writing things down until I finally realized that I didn't even know what the hell I liked or planned on doing. I made up my mind to freestyle anyway, what with having replayed almost my entire catalog. I called all my friends and coworkers and told them to call everyone else and show up to my inaugural show.
They did. It was awesome.
I got the job as the DJ for one of the busiest clubs around.
Each time I got behind the booth and played for everyone it was the best feeling in the world. I felt like a doctor curing people's wounds. I felt the power of turning down suggestions and mocking those of inferior tastes. I got to say whatever I wanted while I was up there.
I could get someone laid with the right song and words.
Bored people turned to dancing idiots as I spun on.
Women that never glanced at me would try and use their powers to earn my trust and station. Then I could watch them dance and smile.
It was subversion and service. A blend of power and yielding. Bursts of joy and malignant humor.
Some of my favorite things were to have people come up and say something similar to "I haven't heard this song in forever!", "I love this. You are amazing!", and "I would do anything to hear...". Tips meant nothing to me. Coming up to my mixing board and asking for my talents did, especially if you stroked my ego.
Who doesn't like having their ego stroked? It's a hard thing to admit...for most. I didn't care either way as I didn't think of myself as a bad person per se, maybe somewhat South of selfish and a little East of perverted.
I had a girl at the time and she was pretty damn good. I was happy with my life and wasn't really in want of anything. So, it didn't seem wrong to let girls give me their numbers or ask me to come by later since I never actually did it. I thought of it as a harmless abuse of power. No one got hurt.
Until...
Saturday night and there were tons of people dancing and hanging out in my part of the bar. I had just played a Beastie Boys song to get all the men hype and on the floor. I used a gold standard slutty song to keep the men up and move all the women out too. There were boners and titties flying everywhere. Caligula would have approved of my methods. Hell, I was pretty turned on by the whole scene. The lights spinning. Music blaring. Young bodies sweating and emitting pheromones.
It was just such a night. Everything was turned up past 11 and I had so many requests and people standing at my booth that you could have told me I won the lotto and I wouldn't have listened. I had already found my place.
Then, she came up to the side door. I saw her blonde hair turning shades of green, red, and blue as the lights hit them. She was almost inside the booth before I put out an arm and put it to her shoulder to stop further entry. She looked down at my hand like I had hurt her feelings. She leaned towards me and asked for a song. I asked her to just write it down and motioned to my little clipboard out front. She held her free arm out and stood her ground. All the while smiling...eyes on me...lips wet.
She looked down and let her long hair spill down to cover her face and grabbed my arm that was holding her shoulder. Before I realized what was happening she was pulling herself in to me. I looked at her sidelong as I loaded another song up and yelled "What do you want?" and she dropped to her knees. Now, fully inside the booth the door shut and she was in darkness. I looked down at her barely lit face as she smiled a full set of teeth up at me and grabbed me from behind the knees.
I wish I could say I didn't get hard.
I want to say that I was offended by her forwardness and that I was committed to my partner so just such an aggression would not be tolerated.
What I have to say is I took a step closer to my controls and she shuffled along unzipping my pants.
As I watched the crowd dance, talk, yell, drink, and cavort she opened my pants and pulled them down just to the midway point of my buttocks and shoved my dick down her throat. In the darkness below me there were hands, lips, mouth, moisture, breath, and skin.
I was Dan Aykroyd from Ghostbusters.
When she was finished a song was still playing and no one was looking up at me.
I was flushed and sweating.
She stood up and kissed me quickly and walked back down to the main floor. I remember her looking at the clipboard and not writing a thing. Just picking it up and looking it over then walking back through the crowd.
I pulled my pants back up and played through the night.
My last song was The Band - Up On Cripple Creek.
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