This one’s coming at you Pulp Fiction style. Sometimes it helps to work backwards. Let’s work through this all together, shall we?
11:45 p.m.: I ravenously consume a gordita de heuvo con chorizo in my kitchen. If I weren’t so tired, I’d be driving back to Chapel Hill right this minute for thirds.
11:15 p.m.: I discover my new favorite food, gorditas de heuevo con chorizo, from the taco truck that parks outside Cat’s Cradle. I eat one after the Hayes Carll show. It is one of the finest things I have ever tasted. See?
Good thing I bought two. I think most of my friends know this about me: my favorite meal is breakfast for dinner. It will pretty much always set everything right. And a good thing, too. I have been crying over honky tonk again. I need things set right.
10:45 p.m.: Hayes Carll makes me laugh, with the song “One Bed, Two Girls, Three Bottles of Wine.” Dude is funny.
10:30 p.m.: Hayes Carll makes me cry, with the song “Arkansas Blues.” Dude is talented. And one of his handsome hipster cowboy band mates is playing steel guitar. Steel guitar just unravels me. I am trying to wipe away tears at Cat’s Cradle, without appearing to be the girl wiping away tears at Cat’s Cradle. I figure, heck, it’s dark, and everyone in here paid $15 to see the band, and could not care less about the girl who wishes she were wearing dark sunglasses while crying over honky tonk.
9:45 p.m.: I receive a text from Julia, level headed friend back in Raleigh: “Do you have some dark sunglasses in your bag? You can be just that cool at Cat’s Cradle.”
9:30 p.m.: I send a text to Julia, levelheaded friend back in Raleigh: “Crying over honky tonk and the headliner has not come on yet. I have a pedal steel problem.”
9:15 p.m.: Listening to Caitlin Rose, singing honky tonk like she means it, surrounded by handsome hipster cowboys on stage and having a great time. Pedal steel cranks up. I am immediately undone.
9:00 p.m.: arrive at Cat’s Cradle to find it completely remodeled since August. I can’t even figure out how to get in. But, wow. There is standing room. There are no impending fist fights. Well done, Cat’s Cradle. I like it.
8:15 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.: Intern architecting. There is caulk. There is drafting. There are printing problems. There are construction documents. Time stands still, at certain points in the afternoon, and actually ticks backwards once or twice. There are 3,555 intern hours remaining.
7:15 a.m. to 8:00 a.m.: At early morning church, which I figure will help me with my perspective while interning for 3,555 more hours. The priest is talking about faith. He says it’s just like falling in love; you can embrace possibility, be open to it, be amazed by it, or not. Just because you choose to close yourself off, choose to sideline yourself, choose not to participate, doesn’t mean love doesn’t exist. Or possibility. Or faith. That was a lot to process before my second cup of coffee. I mulled that over all day at my desk, and it just might have spilled over, and into honky tonk tonight.
Piecing it all together: I think it is possible that music in general, and honky tonk in particular, and pedal steel guitars most specifically of all, should used only by prescription, and in controlled doses, by those of us who are highly susceptible to being overtaken by honky tonk emotions in public.
Or maybe I should just throw myself headlong into it, and go on a honky tonk binge, and keep accidentally crying into my beer until I get it all figured out?
Anyone else in? You bring the dark glasses. I’ll buy the gorditas de huevos. We’ll talk.