See, we lay exhausted in the flat, sheets nailed over the windws. The sunrise so fierce it seeped through the gaps, dropped like cloth on our skin. Couple of hours before, we was playing some back-alley studio, trying to cut a record. A grim little room, more like a closet of ghosts than any joint for music, the cracked heaters lisping steam, empty bottles rolling all over the warped floor. Our cigarettes glowed like small holes in the dark, and that’s how I known we wasn’t buzzing, Hiero’s smoke not moving or nothing. The cig just sitting there in his mouth like he couldn’t hear his way clear. Everyone pacing about, listening between takes to the scrabble of rats in the wall. Restless as hell. Could be we wasn’t so rotten, but I at least felt off. Too nervous, too crazed, too busy watching the door. Forget the rot. Forget the studio’s seclusion. Nothing tore me out of myself. Take after take, I’d play sweating to the end of it only to have Hiero scratch the damn disc, tossing it in the trash. “Just a damn braid of mistakes,” Hiero kept muttering ” damn braid of mistakes.” “We sound like royalty—after the mob got done with em,” said Chip Coleman and I ain’t said nothing, our heads hanging tiredly. But Hiero, wiping his horn with a blacked-up hankerchief, he turn and give Chip a look of pure spite. “Yeah, but hell. Even at our worst we genius.” Did that ever stun me….
=(I usually don’t do this…but i got this book as a gift and it is amazing…a must read!)
“This is my wish for you: Comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, faith so that you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth, Love to complete your life.”—Anonymous