Chicken Fried Steak at Cracker Barrel and Then Some

I ate a chicken fried steak dinner today at Cracker Barrel with my new niece, my sister, my brother-in-law, my dad, my stepmother, two uncles and their two wives, 6 cousins (one of which is four years old), 3 kids I’m related to but never can remember how and then some other people who I might also be related to though I haven’t studied the family tree well enough to say for sure.

And that’s just one half of the family.  I’m spending tomorrow afternoon with my mom’s side.  

Did I mention that all of my family lives in Texas?  Yeah, that’s true.

So right now I’m trying to take a nap.  Everybody left for some other get together and I had to pass so I could stay at my dad’s house and watch cable and eat chips and salsa.  Oh yeah, and drink lots of Dr. Pepper (duh!).

I’m thinking that I should get cracking on Harry Potter 7 (I’m 400 pages in) though more than that I should be trying to figure out where I am going to live and work.  I think I might have found an efficiency apartment along the bus route that might work.  

This morning I dropped off the 16 foot moving truck and I already miss it a little.  I bonded with that thing on the drive here.  Maybe I’ll buy one in my next life when I’m rich.

I guess right now I am collecting or getting or acquiring my bearings (however you say it).  People keep asking me if I’m here to stay and I say, “I’m here to stay for now.”  And I don’t think that even means anything..  I realize that all I really need is storage space and a tent.  Or at least I like to think of myself as that much of a minimalist.  I mean, how cool.  Right?

The truth is that I am more like Steve Martin in The Jerk when he is leaving his mansion and  saying that all he really needs is… this and this and… that’s all… and this…. and this…  and that’s all……. and this..

It was great to play a show right off the bat here.  The people were really nice and some were people who have been waiting patiently for me to come back so they could hear some music.   

On stage I get confused because I feel like a comedic train wreck between the songs.  For some reason I think that I have to tell the audience every detail of what is going on in my brain.  I think it makes me one of the most unmysterious artists around.  I’m saying stuff like, “Just so everybody knows, I don’t know how to play this next song but I am going to act like I know what I am doing though since most of you don’t even play music you will not be able to tell” and “I had a song that I was going to play just now but since I am unpracticed with it I am going to play this completely different song instead” and “I am definitely the self depreciating type though please don’t worry because I am very tough and able to withstand an enormous amount of self-inflicted mental abuse!”  

They’re like…. “Uh… okay.  Just sing.”

Then they stare politely and every time I try to say a joke they don’t do anything but then they laugh when I’m trying to be serious.  So I end up feeling like I’m just acting like a professional.   But it works I guess.

One of the confusing things about playing for strangers is how respectful they are.  I still feel like I’m cheating my way through life by trying to be a songwriter.  I feel like a phoney human, like I should just go ahead and move into a cave.  And when people take me seriously I almost feel guilty about it.  It’s like I’m a con man and they’re just letting me get away with it.  I wanna say, “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong.  I’m just making up junk and saying it out loud.  That’s it!”

Making conversation.  That’s what I do.

Alright, the chips and salsa are calling my name and I can resist no longer.  

Happy Mother’s Day, folks.

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