Being back in Cleveland was like Back to the Future, only it wasn’t the future, man, it was the present. A time warp. Or, as my friends describe a black out, time traveling. I felt twenty three again. Full of piss and bourbon, confident and secure. Not that Los Angeles beats the piss out of me: it’s just that there’s no place like home.
While I was in town for the Amps II Eleven shows I learned to reconnect with friends. All it takes is beer and loud guitars. Maybe some dry ice in a plastic bottle creating an H-100 worthy bang. Or a BBQ… or whatever. I also learned that you don’t have to do everything to have fun. Lunch at Sokolowski’s and a beer at Johnny Malloy’s are worth the flight across the country. $1 draughts? Holy shit! Buy one get one burgers? Four please.
Why do you suck me in time and again, Miss Cleveland. I’m not worthy of your rusted touch but I always come back for another case of lock jaw.
I met a model from Shaker who was on my flights back. She used to work in New York City and now lives in Beverly Hills but she still comes home for the fourth of July. That’s like the article my mom cut out for me about how Drew Carey still goes to the same pizza place in Parma whenever he’s there to grab a pitcher and a pie. That’s her calling to them just like me.
This is the precursor to some live reviews I am going to spit at you and some general shit I might write in the next couple of days as I drink pricey beer in my pricey apartment that smells like rotten pricey turkey that I have had in the refrigerator since October.