Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
I called Ziggy when I got upstairs. I got his machine. I left the number of the hotel and my room number. Then I opened the minibar wondering if there was any Gatorade in there.
There wasn’t, but there was Coke. And Jack. Which meant there was Jack and Coke.
( Read the rest of this entry » )Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
Remo and I went into the hotel bar for a nightcap. I got my bourbon in soda instead of straight up since we were in Florida and it seemed more appropriate for hot weather, even though it had turned into a pleasantly cool night out. I figured I could use the hydration, anyway.
And the bourbon was soothing to my fatigued emotions. It was tiring to hold them in all the time but then it was exhausting to let them out, too. How is that supposed to work? I pondered that while watching the little bubbles make their way past the ice cubes in my glass.
“You think he’s going to grow up okay?” Remo asked.
( Read the rest of this entry » )Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
The phone rang gratifyingly quickly. “Yellow,” I answered. “I guess you’re not sleeping either.”
“I’m on West Coast time,” Ziggy said. “Where it’s only three in the morning.”
“Uh huh,” I said, unconvinced.
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