Does anyone remember the ultimate purpose of this journal? Does anyone remember the entry where I explained why I write what I write, the way I write it? No? Let me refresh your memories: People are assholes.
Never, never forget that.
Right before we left for practice on Saturday, the phone rang at Dirk's house. Either he or his brother picked it up; I was loading equipment, so didn't have time to wonder. We left, and Dirk and Aaron were unusually quiet. I didn't question this, either, because they're pretty moody, especially on practice days. I, personally, was looking forward to hooking my new bass up to a head for the first time and hearing how it sounded. Nothing could ruin my day.
Ha.
So, we get to practice, we set up, and everyone's still quiet. We find out the wiring in the bass is a little odd, and we discuss how to re-wire it to get the effect I want. We sit in the lounge area for a while, until I notice that it's 4:20. Smiling, I looked over at Dirk and asked him, "Do you think I should make sure the door's unlocked? The other band was still going in and out when I came in and I wouldn't want Doshu to get locked out."
"Doshu's not coming. The members of his old band [Enemy Soil] are back in the area, and he's playing with them today."
I sat, patiently waiting for the punch line. As jokes went, this was an odd one, but I'm tolerant. It took a few minutes to realize that no punch line was forthcoming; it took a little longer for full realization to set in. I sat there for a long while after that, immobilized by anger and outrage. I was afraid to say anything, because I knew it would come out as a scream.
I might have explained this before: bands are a lot like relationships. After someone's been in the band for a while, it's considered a commitment. Nothing short of irreconcilable differences should make them go. It's like they got engaged to every member of the band.
Now, imagine you were engaged. Imagine that the person you're engaged to was engaged before, and broke it off. Imagine that they said they were completely over their former flame, and did everything in their power to prove it to you. Now, imagine that their former flame comes back to town, and your fiancé(e) calls you right before you're supposed to meet them somewhere and tells you that they've gotten back together with their old flame.
Imagine that your fiancé(e) has been secretly nursing a hard-on for their old flame all the time you were together.
Wouldn't you be pissed?
Of course, it could be, as a friend suggested, a temporary thing. He could have been doing it for nostalgia's sake, or he could be trying to decide which band he wants to be in permanently. Regardless, he shouldn't have handled it that way. I mean, even when we were sometimes impatient with his fucked work schedule, and had people coming out of the woodwork offering to be our lead singer, we never just called him up and said, "Hey, don't come to practice today. We're auditioning someone else."
It doesn't matter if it's temporary, or if it was just the one time, or if he feels the need to make a decision. You just don't do that, especially when the band you're already in is making plans to do a show. It shows that Doshu wasn't committed, after all. It shows that he wasn't nearly as dedicated as we thought. It shows he can't be trusted.
I am still waiting for the punch line.
The rest of the day was fine, uneventful. Before practice, my mother and I went to the bank and got her name off my savings account (so that it was no longer a joint account), and set up a checking account. I'm supposed to get my checks sometime this week. When I order more, I'm going to order ones with seashells on them, because I'm just that type of person.
After practice, we stopped by my house, and I'd actually gotten mail. This is a rare occurrence for me, you understand. I'd finally gotten my card from Kaiser Permanente, and I got a CD that someone promised to send me (I'm trying to pry it away from Dirk so I can write a review, but that's another story).
We went out to eat, and for once I actually ate with them. We went back to Dirk's place and listened to the CD.
I finally got the oil changed in my car on Sunday. That went without a hitch, except that I noticed that one the little sticker they put on your windshield to remind you when the next oil change is due, the milage was way off. My car has 108,000 miles on it, give or take a few. The sticker said the next oil change is due after 117,000 miles. Maybe it's just me, but I remember being told that you're supposed to get the oil changed every three thousand miles. Perhaps they're sick of servicing my POS ‘87 Cierra, and want it to break down.
Dirk and I spent most of the day with Jason and his girlfriend. We went to Mars so Dirk could order my bass head and put a down payment on it. We also went out to eat, and had a great time. I like Jason better now that he has a girlfriend.
For those on my mailing list, Cloudy's still alive. She actually seems to be getting better. Apparently, she may have a condition known as "fatty liver". Fat builds up in the livers of older cats, not necessarily because the cat's overweight. They're not certain what causes it. Anyway, when this happens, the cat just quits eating or drinking. You have to force-feed the cat — which gives it a 50-60% chance of recovery. Eventually, the fat just goes away, and the cat goes back to normal.
This morning, she was able to stand up and was grooming herself.
So, I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
I helped feed her on Sunday, because my father said it broke his heart to see her like that. Cats don't like it when you force-feed them. Especially when you pry their jaws open. They will reflexively snap them shut, and cats have very sharp little teeth. I got two wounds on my index finger, and they both quickly started showing signs of infection. Since I need my index finger to play, I spent a good deal of time last night re-opening the wounds and cleaning them out with hydrogen peroxide and bactine. Cheerful.
I still have a lot of things to do. We're not looking for a new lead singer, because any one of us can do that while playing our respective instruments. We have a prospective drummer, and we're putting up ads, just in case. Just in case.
Let me know if you figure out the punch line, okay?
