lirik lagu donny mccaslin - the opener
[spoken: sun kil moon]
i got off the plane at the tampa airport and walked outside
into the florida sun was shining
and i was met by a tall grungy redheaded promoter guy
and his shaved-headed friend who was
along for the ride
in my line of work, “friend who was along for the ride”
means “fan who wants to eavesdrop on my life”
over the years, i’ve found ways of blocking out the noise
i’ve found ways to dodge, to askew[?], to divert, to avoid
for that ride to the hotel i pulled out a copy
of ring magazine
and i started reading it with serious intensity
boxing was a subject that my instincts told me
neither of them knew anything about
if you appear to be immersed in something
people will leave you alone if they know nothing
about the publication you appear to be immersed in reading
“mark, so what are you gonna do tonight
when you get into your hotel
would you like to join us for dinner?”
“thanks but i’m gonna try to watch the angel manfredy fight
on my hotel tv it’s on the tnt network.”
“um, we’re not actually in a hotel
it’s more like a motel but hey
you seem like you’re really into boxing.”
“yeah.”
when we arrived at the hotel
i asked what time soundcheck was the next day
and said thank you for the ride and goodbye
and when they drove off the fan in the p-ssenger seat
looked upset and frustrated like he wanted to cry
i successfully watched the manfredy fight
in a thick carpeted room that smelled like air freshener and mold
the next day at soundcheck the jaded sound guy
was bringing a pa system into the bar
i asked, “why doesn’t this place have its own pa?”
the place definitely has a big enough stage
they could fit a four-piece band
the place had flatscreen tvs on three of the walls
and a small pa system would’ve fit right in
i could picture cover bands playing in there
while about fifty people hooted and hollered
and had a good time
eating chicken wings and drinking pabst blue ribbon
or whatever it is that people in florida
like drinking
the guy who was along for the ride
lingered around observing the soundcheck
while the jaded sound guy
was pushing kn-bs and not having much luck
with getting a good sound, yet being
poker-faced about it
when a thin guy who resembled a young peter murphy
walked in with a guitar case, he was the opener
i greeted him warmly but he was very smug towards me
didn’t say more than a few words, if that
i don’t recall much from the show except that it was awful
like awkward s-x when you’re having
trouble keeping it up
but whatever the case may be
you’re just happy when it’s over
and it’s finally done
and i left the venue
that i believe was named after the creedence clearwater song
“fortunate one” with two women
who were happy to give me a ride to my motel
while we drove along
one of them asked me
how i liked the opener i said
“uh, i didn’t watch, to tell you the truth.”
she said “that’s okay, he doesn’t like you.”
i said “that’s interesting, you mean me personally or my music
and i wonder why?”
she said “i don’t know, that’s just what he told me
he doesn’t like you.”
we closed the door behind us and the girls sat
at the edge of my motel bed
the first words out of the chattiest one’s mouth were
“can we find some p-rn to watch?”
“i’m not into p-rn, especially when it seems like none is required.”
me and two dtf rocker girls in a tampa motel
was good enough for me but hey there i was
with a remote control in my hand
trying to find some p-rn for us to watch
as i was searching for p-rn
suddenly there was a (knock) on my door
i said “who is it” they said, “the cops.”
my heart was pounding and the girls got quiet really fast
i looked through the peephole of the door
and there were four big rednecks with cap[?] hats
standing outside
“what’s wrong?” i asked
“we’re just kidding,” they said
“we’re not the cops, those are our girlfriends in there with you.”
and i said “aw sh-t,”
and i let the guys in
i asked, “how’d you guys find my address?”
they said “the opener gave it to us.”
i said “oh my god, how’d he get it?”
they said, “from a friend of the promoter
he said he picked you up from the airport
and you were reading a boxing magazine
and they hung out for an hour
drinking their beers and laughing and talking
and then they all left.”
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