db_the_last_feeling_left dB Ok, so another St Patric's day is over. I played a gig in town tonight sitting in with another band. Man it was excellent. It was supposed to be an Irish thing, but as usual I just added my own stuff to what the band was paying. It was a great night. The band was nice and tight. The crowd was dancing. everyone was happy. Looking down from the drum riser, it looked like a great night. After the gig, the band paked up their gear and I went for a walk around the city. Trying to find a place. Sitting here by myself, in the rural backwaters of a small town on the edge of the city I had just played in. I've just finished off half a bottle of Wilsons, and was getting agitated, so i thought I'd come on here and harass you guys. You know, tonight is supposed to be a great celebration for all Irish that are away from home. We are supposed to gather together and revel in our Irishness and talk about home and stuff. Not me apparently. It's weird. I must have walked around that damn town for a couple of hours. Searching everywhere for people that I could relate to. The closest I came to that was a busker playing the congas in the Manners street park at about midnight. I sat there for a while listening and then dropped the guy fourty bucks and moved on. Now i'm back here again. In my little shell. You know, this place I live, it's great. It's got 6 bedrooms, two lounges, a great big kitchen, bar, conservatory, pool room. Hell, my lake garden cost about half a million to get made (that's like $220,00 US dollars). It's a great place. Quiet, peaceful with clean fresh air. the perfect place to raise a family. I live here alone. I hardly ever come up to the house. I stay in the studio most of the time. The house is somehow alien to me. It doesn't feel right. It's so empty. All the luxury money can buy, and it just don't feel rught. You people put so much store in money. You think it'll make you free, or something to that effect. I played a good show tonight. I can say that because usually I suck, but when things go well it's ok to notice and be proud of the show. And all these people, this sea of faces, looking up at me during the solo, dancing, smiling, cheering me on in that adrenaline rush that lasts a couple of hours while you are on stagem they all have something that I'll never have. Each other. They'll meet new people and make new friends. They'll fall in love and have families. They'll grow old, safe in the knowlege that their line is secure in their children. Me? I got maybe another 10 years of life left. Most of that time I'll be alone, even the moment that I die, I'll be alone. My house, this studio, my buisness, will all be sold off, or just knocked down. There will be nothing left. My family name will die with me. Not that that means much, I never really knew my family. I guess I'm saying this now because in this state I can't bury the feelings that I have. But with that, I have nobody to talk to about them. Just you people. I work with all the vermin that this world holds. Scumbag, dirty, lying, hypocritical, ethicaly challenged suits who wouldn't know what it's like to be nice. My clients are no better. using me to do the work and not paying mee half of what's due. Not that it matters, I get enough to live quite well on, so I don't ask for more. These horrible, horrible people are all that i have. And they'll be the ones that frain my life-blood away in the end. All I wanted to do in life, was to live nomally. Have a nice loving wife. Kids. Nice house. 2 cars. Give my children somethig I never had; a stable home. Family. Some kind of name ti live up to, an if they didn't, it would be ok because they would have been my kids and I'd have loved them regardless. No the only time I feel alive is when I'm playing my drums. People don't realise that when i'm on stage I'm not just giving a performance. It's like my last will and testament. I play to die. I give all that I have got, and hope that I die on stage, at least them I'll have some dignity. According to my doctor (well, my ex doctor), if I keep on drinking, and playing, and working, and doing the things I have to do, i won't reach thiry. well I guess that is some consolation. Man, I can't belive this shit. I'm actually crying. Fuck, it's been... about 12 years since I last cried. Well, I'll wind it up here then. I emplore you all. Please. Grow up. Think bigger. Think of all the possibilities that lie ahead of you, and all mankind, and actually take the forst steps to make the human race not a race anymore. Make it an event. One that should be cherished and respected. Be all that you can be, and more. Be what you want to be, let others do the same. Be like the crowd I played to tonight. Dance and bear no ill-feeling. Just be together with one purpose, to have a good time. The last thing is something for me personally. It's been about three years since I last had real contact with another human being, so all the feeling that I have is in this. Please, please, please. Hug a musician. Because we never get to dance. This is Declan Bailey. Signing off. 010317 ... johnny west I'd hug YOU dB, if I could get past this damned computer screen. I hope that thought helps in some small way. 010317 ... pilgrim The drum The drummer Skins streched Feeling The Beat The heart The beat The heart beat The sound Human The sound Animal The sound Human Animal The beat The Basics The beat The Ryhthm The Beat The Rythym The call of the wild The Rythym The primal essence The Rythym The heart The Beat The soul The Rythym The Life The Beat The Life The beat The Rythym The birth The pain The Joy The Giving The Tribe The Beat The Love The Rythym The Loss The Beat The End The Beat The End 010317 ... dB Stylie! Cool, little... whatever it is. Oh yeah, sorry about that people. I'll make it a rule to never go near a 'puter when I've been drinking again. 010317 ... johnny west And I thought you were teetering on the edge! It was just alcohol? What have I been missin', not drinkin' stuff? Damn. I gotta tell ya dB, you had me worried. But I'm glad you're okay. At least...I think you're okay. I mean, you seem okay... 010317 ... dB Teetering on the edge of what? Hey I ain't that kind man you should know that by now. What would be the point? I ain't got long to go anyway. Sometimes I just gotta let this shit out. How else am I supposed to be the unemotional, dry person that you see on here all the time. I just happened that instead of passing out somewhere in aboloute agony (which happened a bit later last night. I woke up in the big gazebo of all places), I decided to go and get on the puter. That's not to say that I don't think about "The Alternative". Alot of the time when I drink, I'm always seeing if I can go that one bottle higher, just too see if my body can take it. Apparently it can. Does leave some side effects though. Anyway, I move to have this page of blather erased from the slate of history. I never expose what is actually going on in my head, so this is really embarrassing. 010317 ... johnny west The jury of disgruntled blatherers accepts the above agruments, hereby travelling backward in time and erasing this page of blather. If any persons choose to blathe about any of this page's contents in the future, those individuals shall be castrated and/or forced to listen to Britney Spears sing a dance version of "Stairway To Heaven". The jury rests. 010318 ... dB Will the last one out of the circus, please lock up everyting. 010318 what's it to you? who go blather from