Darling, Won't You Ease My Worried Mind

Darling, Won't You Ease My Worried Mind

Goddammit.

She knows what she's doing to me. She knows she's KILLING me.

Right before we left the gig tonight, I told her:

"It's getting very, very difficult to be around you."

She just looked down.

"And you know, I'm realizing with every gig just how much I love him too, how much I'm going to miss him, how much he means to me. But...I'm having a hard time being around you, Layla. This is killing me. It's worse every gig now."

She looked up with those amazing blue eyes, cut me in two, and I was left with nothing else worth saying.

Last night was a gift. Sheryl asked me to come over and watch a movie with her and Katie before I took Katie back to the apartment. So we watched the first Pirates Of The Caribbean film (I haven't seen the new one, Sheryl tells me it's excellent) and I got to spend two hours in a house I used to live in, with two people I used to live with, and the main thing I felt was simple gratitude. It was an odd thing. I don't really belong there, I never did. But I feel welcome there as a visitor, and I can't begin to express my happiness at how easy it's been to be around and talk to Sheryl these past couple weeks. We're trying very hard to do the right thing for our daughter, and I think we're onto something. It's very important to me not to interfere with her life any more than I have to - we've spent a year trying to build new lives apart from each other, and I doubt she wants me getting in the way of her progress any more than I want the reverse - but it feels like we're friends again, not just in name, but in reality. And that is a good thing.

Katie was asleep before we got back to the apartment. I ended up giving her the bed, and slept on the floor. So I woke up every 25 minutes and it's a goddamn miracle I can THINK right now.

So, of course, she woke up ready to Seize The Day at 6AM.

That's my girl...

We had breakfast and watched my favorite Fawlty Towers - the episode with Manuel's rat. Katie LOVES that show, and I'm a proud Daddy.

We drove up here to Marion, and spent most of the afternoon at my grandma's, where Katie got to play with her cousins. We came back and I got my shit together for the gig.

Somebody remind me to write about my new bass soon. It was the most ANNOYING part of the day.

I stopped for some Bacardi Limon before the gig, and had my FACE RIPPED OFF by an astounding blonde at the counter, who turns out to be 43 years old, even though she looks barely over 30. She was very friendly, and I tried to talk her into coming to the gig, but she had to work over when we were done. Shitfucky. She actually seemed to like talking to me, and I left with CARBONATED BRAIN CELLS, her killer light blonde hair, stunning face, and tight little body FUELLING MY MACHINE.

Of course, then I got to the gig and forgot about every single other woman on the planet when Layla came into view.

Her little sister just got married, and she'd come from the funera...er, I mean...wedding, and I'd just missed seeing her daughter too.

Aphrodite has nothing on my love. On...my...uh...his...love...............................................

Shitfucky.

The stars were in her eyes. The universe was reclining in her hair. All that is good and holy was...

For fuck's sake, SOMEBODY KILL ME. PLEASE.

From the first note, I flung myself headlong into the groove and nothing but the groove. OK, I played a few 32nd notes too. Sue me, assholes.

It was a very strange mix of inspiration. On one hand, there was a woman I can enver have, who I am falling more and more in love with. On another, there was a woman who is going to be replacing the husband of the first woman in my band, a fabulous 50-something guitarist who LOVES me and my playing. On yet another, the band itself, who were not perfect but highly inspirational nonetheless. Finally, there was my daughter, who I wanted to reach out to and touch with this music in some way, show her how important it is for her daddy to be up there doing this.

I played my fucking ass off. It was so much better than last week's gig, it ain't even funny.

P, who very likely will be my band's guitarist within two months, is a fun, fun lady. She's got to be about 174 years older than me. She spent several years as a prison guard. I think I don't want to piss her off.

Every time I walked by, she put on a goofy shit-eating grin and waved at me. "Hi, Doug!" Her and J (our "substitute" drummer) actually both offered me a cut of their share of every gig from now on if I'd stay. It was...very odd...

Even with my hands in problematic condition and my chops dipped down some over the past few years, there is no doubt of who I am - I have little confidence in ANYTHING about myself, but if there is one thing I know I can do like a motherfucker, it's play rock bass. An IDIOT can do it, it's gotta be one of the most mindless jobs on the planet, but to do it WELL is another thing entirely, and I know I am pretty fucking good at it.

But to have two people seriously offer me part of their pay (they were NOT joking) to have me stay in this band........that is just goddamn mind-blowing.

Of course, I can't do it. It's just not practical at all.

And that, my friends, is the story of the night - what I WANT and what I CAN HAVE.

The distance between the two is remarkable.

My daughter, the most important person in my world, fell asleep tonight three songs before the end of the first set. She fell asleep in the arms of the woman I've fallen in love with but can never have. The absolute goddamn MINDFUCK of that is obvious, beyond any real attempts to describe. It just IS.

I took her back, still asleep, and looked at Layla.

"I can't begin to articulate what I'm feeling right now."

She sliced me in half with her eyes, then looked away again. God fucking damn it.

Katie woke up the second I put her in her car seat in Mom's van. She was ready to go hunt for fireflies, something she';s been doing with Mommy for a while now. I said goodbye and went back inside to the gig. She's asleep now, at almost 2:30AM as I type this.

I actually had requests for my solo spot. So I did Buddy Holly's Well All Right (which was good) and Rockin' In The Free World, which was very fucking good. Having somebody ASK for that song was another odd moment in the evening. Some guy I've never talked to, but has seen a few recent gigs.

P asked for a Buddy Holly song, so I did Well All Right for her. Then she came up and took over M's guitar for two songs, and I finally got to hear her play.

Fucking Christ. This old lady ROCKS.

We started with Mustang Sally, which she sang. I did one verse of backing vocals before M ran back onstage, grabbed a tambourine, and sang the highest part behind us. I always tend to feel that song with a good degree of old school Motown funkiness (it was the ONLY thing I could approach being funky with when I was with the country band a few years ago, and they even gave me a solo on it) and tonight I felt like I was channeling James Jamerson. P played some good raw funky blues-rock guitar, and I got another brick inserted in my wall - I'm gonna miss the fuck out of M, but I'm also regretting leaving this band for the chance to play with HER. Shit, she rocks.

Then, for the sole reason of letting M dance with his wife for the first time at one of our gigs, P sat in on Wonderful Tonight, one of those godawful ballads I can barely stomach, but............

I watched one of my best friends, a man I love like a brother, dancing with his wife, a woman I'd gladly give my BALLS to I've become so goddamn crazy about her, and...I was so fucking happy for them.

It reminded me of why all this has been so fucking insane. They are the most beautiful couple I've ever seen. I've become very fucking cynical about love and marriage in the past couple years, but then some girl will come along and knock me on my ass and I'll have to watch her dance away with somebody who she so obviously is meant to be with.

And it hurts like a motherfuck.

He played some killer shit tonight. I'm lucky to know him.

Goddammit, this keeps building and building, and it hurts more each time.

"Hey, M. How's it going? Hey, you know how we've been friends for 13 years and we've shared some great memories and made each other laugh our asses off merely with one note on our axes, and now we're both leaving this band and we're going to miss the fuck out of each other? I want to fuck your wife. Just thought I'd mention it. Have a nice day."

A year ago I was saying I wanted to experience all I could, feel every emotion I could possibly feel.

Ten years ago (Jesus creeping shit, TEN years ago???) my first real girlfriend told me "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it."

She was smarter than me. Most women usually are.

I sat next to Layla on the edge of the stage (the coolest stage we've been on, I think) and said those things to her, the things at the beginning of this entry. And then he walked in and sat next to her on the other side. There I was, with both of them.

I looked at him. "We were jsut talking about how much this sucks and how we're going to miss these gigs together."

I conviniently left out the part about how much I want to fuck her. She was looking down again, but instead of the previous emotion - I swear she'd seemed not only flattered, but totally understanding of my feelings towards her - this time she seemed to be holding back laughter. As if she was thinking what i'm thinking. "Yeah, M. Doug's gonna miss you. By the way, has he told you how much he wants to fuck me and eat my pussy like a Rwandan refugee turned loose on a buffet?"

So we sat there for a moment, sharing the already-spoken parts of our mutual regret over how this band has to leave our lives, but only me and Layla sharing the unspoken part. I've said a lot to her. but I haven't said the one thing that we both know, but I can't say.

I love you.

We drove back to the singer's house to drop off gear. I followed him and her. I put in Adrian Belew's Here, one of the most glorious pop-rock albums of the past couple decades, and cranked up a Kinks-esqe slab of goodness called Never Enough. I sang it to the passenger's seat of the vehicle ten car-lengths in front of me.

Nothing she can actually give me will ever be enough. And for that I'm a lesser person.

But for the lessons I've learned - the intense moral ambiguity of loving the wife of my brother in music - I'm better for that. Tired. Pained. Nearly broken, wanting to cry. But better.

Lay-laaaa.................

Love,
Dougie
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Morning.
I forgot to mention the funny part of last night.

S, the guy who is probably replacing me in the band, was helping me load gear, and somehow we got around to the subject of strip clubs. We both said we hadn't been in one in a long time. Layla heard us.

"I was just in one today."

Me: "And you didn't get video??? PLEEEEEASE tell me you got video." I put my hands into prayer position and kneeled before her.

I love making her laugh.

"Sorry, I'm not dressed for that occasion."

"Hell, getting you UNDRESSED is the point. Who cares what you've got on now?" I was looking directly into her eyes, but I lost it and found my gaze going back down to those legs... "Here...I've got $80 from the gig tonight. What will that get me?" I gave her my best wounded-puppy-dog-in-need look.

Yeah, I love making her laugh.

I came back two minutes later, holding out the check that my grandma very kindly gave me earlier in the day.

"Here, I'll sign it over to you and..."

The combination of embarrasment, flattery, and...wow, you dirty little girl...yeah, I love her. Dammit.

Interestingly enough, I'm off for a shower now.

Dougie