1.) My career in journalism is stalled in Bowling Green… too few opportunities, and a workplace where upward mobility is severely limited and change is slow.

2.) One pool hall! And it’s on the other side of town! I try to play on Thursdays, but practice is nonexistent and my game suffers greatly for it.

3.) And good movies? We don’t get ‘em here. Nope, just the big-budget thrillers (NOTE: I did see “Harry Potter” this weekend and thoroughly enjoyed it) from the big-name studios. Which means I won’t be seeing this anytime soon:

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=jqVS1erjMkQ]

Yes, as I sit at my favorite coffee shop, former WWF Superstar (and star of WWF’s short-lived Saturday morning cartoon) Mr. Hillbilly Jim is handing over money for a mocha frappe. It’s worth noting that he’s wearing socks and sandals, sweatpants, and a fanny pack (!), for some reason turned to the front as if it’s an ancient groin-protecting codpiece.

Meanwhile, a seemingly well-qualified applicant for a position at said coffeeshop is now 19 minutes late for an interview. I think the management is upset.

I’ll be surprised if anyone’s reading my blog anymore, simply because I haven’t updated it in weeks. Sorry about that… I’m sure you’ve found something better to read in the meantime. In case of full-on Justin withdrawal, I suggest you check out some of the links on the right… lots of good stuff there.

Anyway, part of the problem has been a continually surging stress level. My right-hand at Spencer’s is being amputated soon, and I’m really anxious about finding a replacement—not a prosthesis, but a fulling-working part with good firm digits and quick reflexes. Added to that was Foxhole tour, which took us in a circle from Bowling Green to Bushnell, Ill., then to Mt. Pleasant, Mich., Cincinnati and Louisville.

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=nRKxs1UiHeM]Playing music often turns out to be a real zero-sum proposition… we make some money on sales and shows, but our van guzzles gas and leaves us breaking even, at best. Meanwhile we spend hours driving from one city to the next, usually to find: a crowd of 30-80 people, many of them uninterested in the actual music; a venue that’s talked up what a great show it’ll be, only to come at the end of the night with much less money than they led us to believe; a promoter who said “I love your music!” who doesn’t take the simple steps to make sure things run smoothly, sound levels are right, and that people will actually show up.

It’s really, really frustrating, actually… I get myself pumped up for these outings, and they always sort of disappoint. I imagine a culture where artists are appreciated and are compensated properly… I’m not asking for punk-rock welfare here, just an understanding that creating and performing music takes a lot of hard work and that it’s worth more than $3 and a “good show, man” at the end of the night.

Granted, it’s a free market, and there are a few bands who can afford to pay for their meals, gas, even some entertainment with the earnings from their shows, and still have some money left over. But the market is way oversaturated and, on our end, we’re way too busy to pull some major marketing coup. It’s tough, too, for me to stay enthusiastic and to find the time to write and rehearse when all my bandmates are in Nashville; they, meanwhile, are plenty busy and aren’t as proactively minded as me, and so we tread water more often than not.

It wasn’t like this before, and I’m having a hard time adjusting. My strange day/night schedule at the newspaper was the first blow, marriage was the second and Lewis is a big one at No. 3. I’ve such fond memories of practicing and just jamming around with my bandmates on a semi-daily basis… my mind likes to forget that I was constantly down about not having a true love! Grass is always greener when you don’t have to cut it.

Monday is a great day to have off work. While most people are crawling out of bed, starting their weeks again by heading off to work—with five whole burden-laden days in sight!—the off-on-Monday man gets to rest easy, knowing he’s in the minority in his little town.

If he decides to go to the store—or even, in the worst-case scenario, the MALL(!)—he’s one of few. He doesn’t have to wait in line like the weekend warriors… he just does as he pleases, with minimal traffic in either road or walkway obstructing his path.

This man is me. Usually.

Today, however, my most reliable employee was feeling under the weather, and as I otherwise have a crop of newbies, I had to suck it up, jump out of bed at 6:30 and head down to the shop. Not the way I was hoping to spend my day off… but that’s the price of being the Coffee King of Bowling Green. (Bad TV commercial featuring me, who has no business on camera, coming soon.)
Meanwhile, I realize I’m more like the unreliable employees I’ve fired over the years… calling in sick, or just not showing up, more often than not. Not at work, of course; I’ve got an image to uphold of the able-bodied überkompetant. But in my marriage, my friendships, my creativity… let’s be honest: it’s just easier to stay in bed.

Monday is a great day to have off work. While most people are crawling out of bed, starting their weeks again by heading off to work—with five whole burden-laden days in sight!—the off-on-Monday man gets to rest easy, knowing he’s in the minority in his little town.

If he decides to go to the store—or even, in the worst-case scenario, the MALL(!)—he’s one of few. He doesn’t have to wait in line like the weekend warriors… he just does as he pleases, with minimal traffic in either road or walkway obstructing his path.

This man is me. Usually.

Today, however, my most reliable employee was feeling under the weather, and as I otherwise have a crop of newbies, I had to suck it up, jump out of bed at 6:30 and head down to the shop. Not the way I was hoping to spend my day off… but that’s the price of being the Coffee King of Bowling Green. (Bad TV commercial featuring me, who has no business on camera, coming soon.)
Meanwhile, I realize I’m more like the unreliable employees I’ve fired over the years… calling in sick, or just not showing up, more often than not. Not at work, of course; I’ve got an image to uphold of the able-bodied überkompetant. But in my marriage, my friendships, my creativity… let’s be honest: it’s just easier to stay in bed.