Sittin' here in the blues bar, now these guys know how to do it. Or have been doing it long enough to know how to do it.

'...Gonna treat you guys real nice tonight, yeah. Go up, get yourself a beer or a shot of Yukon jack and we'll get'cha up here dancing, yeah.'

I sit here waiting to play next door with my own band. But the other people playing there tonight that we sat and waited through weren't doing it just right. Not to say we do it just right. You usually can tell after a couple of songs. Si or no.

'Everybody doin' alright? Let me turn this down for ya a little, yeah...okay.'

I sit and wonder what I would be doing if I was a teenager tonight in this town. Probably looking for the beer party. If there was no beer party, it would probably be down to the theater to check out that show next door.

'Born on the bayou....born on the baaayou!'

Yeah, these guys are doing it alright. Cover songs. Just loud enough to feel it, but not so loud you can't talk to your friend or whoever you came in with. Beer and liquor. But wait, I've got a job to do. This is all these guys have got, as good as it gets. Me, I still got a chance, maybe. I tell the band members to call me on my cellular if and when they need me so I could duck out and write something. This. A dark booth with a little light to what the fuck next to an empty section of tables. Perfect. Reality. Their lights are better than ours. They have a small smoke machine. Perfect.

'...Ya'll come and dance, or get as drunk as were gonna get, but we'd like you to come and dance cause' we don't like to drink alone.'

One guy sits at a table watching and listening and enjoying the band. Perfect volume. His feathered hair is in order, his lighter sits perfectly on top of his smokes, his Corona bottle, with the light hitting the frosty, sits directly on the center of a napkin. He leans back, but not too far and lifts the bottle and places it back down on the napkin. His clothes look like laundry Day was today. Perfect. Science. He's doing alright. Tonight.

'Everybody give it up for our drummer, Alan, whose truck broke down earlier today, and he still made it out tonight...now we're gonna play a little...'

Time to jump back over to the theater and see what's going on. I walk by a guy who is staggering perfectly like he should be after getting a jump on the Friday night.

'How ya doin',Bill, Did'ja eat lunch today? You know what happens when you don't eat lunch on Fridays...' Somehow, in order.

Bill see's me cruise by and looks behinds him and stops under a doorway to rest and think about it. I get to the corner and turn and look at today's youth. They are bored. Ready. I duck back inside the old theater and look down at the floor. I always hated the guys who made it known that they were gonna be playing later that night without doing anything cool like giving c.d.'s or saying 'what's up?' I have nothing to immediately offer so the floor is my friend. Main auditorium- must be a beer party somewhere tonight because the present headcount tonight of today's youth is pretty low. Maybe these are today's and tomorrow's non-drinkers. Hhmmm. Maybe. That's alright. 2 more bands, then us. These things are always hard to do just right in these old theaters. Some people run past me up the aisle as I put in my earplugs and discover I like listening to the music with my head in my hands and my elbows on my lap while facing down at the floor with my eyes closed. Aahh. Just right.

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