Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Post gig ego
gongs,
in shimmering,
rattling,
euphoric,
dimish.

I nosh on
half a
giant bacon
cheeseburger
deluxe.

Part of my
pay.

Chewing,
chewing,
chewing.
An empty bar,
a candle-lit table
for one.
The band
went straight home
with take out.
Bickered
all night
about the music,
during gig.

Back, forth,
up, down,
soft, hard.
I grind the
ground round.
I wonder
who I was
up there,
singing,
moments ago.

My mind goes blank.
I eat.

Contentment
is a feisty thing.
Whittles itself,
like a tattoo in you.
Slowly,
painfully,
indelibly,
until suddenly,
in bold-faced,
earned italics,
a sly gleam
appears,
a jaded sparkle
jests,
right there,
just underneath,
that glaring,
ruby red,
lipstick.

post gig glow
room empties but i'm still full
hungering for an hour ago
how good it is
how good it was
or was it
post gig amnesia
i think therefore i am (?)
was i?
will i again?

who cares - post gig sigh
yeah

Why post gig?
I get a very mechanical impression out of it. As if every verse was some kind of command line.

I agree with you traveller.
This one i'll work on awhile, or maybe dump.
I had a gig this weekend.
Trying to capture the direct aftermath, from stage to table....I was really aware of it....tough to write about....
(I hate it when inspiration and words won't jive!)
Good to hear from you!
H

Hey Judih!
Seems like you got my garbled drift here...
Stella is home for Christmas tommorrow!
Nice to hear so directly from you...it's an honor always...
H

stella! how wonderful. mmmmm...hugs vicarious (how i miss my oldest daughter)

yes, i gotcha. And i thank you - both for sharing your gig, and allowing me to listen to you sing in my mind, and for sharing your post-gigness, which i can relate to.

it's better to gig and post than to never be gigging at all.

love to you,
judih