The other night I went to the Double Door to see The Rosebuds. Fortunately, their music is catchy and they are friendly, charismatic stage personalities. But the real reason I was there was to see my old friend Wes play drums for them. He is touring with the same Slingerland kit he got used for $400 in seventh grade (I was so jealous!). I watched him play with this happy, successful band, and sat there feeling a curious mixture of joy and sad nostalgia as he flailed away with joyous abandon at these brash, uptempo pop songs. Afterwards, I told him that his chops are probaly in better shape right now than mine are. (He said he wishes there weren't so many fast songs.) We drank cheap beer and recalled bizarre middle school moments, bad songs we'd written together, inside jokes, and other minutae from long ago that only we would remember. I told him I was proud of him. And I am. I am really fucking proud of that kid. And I miss him a lot, and I miss making music with him, and I hope we can do that again someday.

All in due time.

Reason #287529475 I'm a dork: I spent the day listening to Genesis' entire ouevre on my iPod, in Shuffle mode.

ME: Do you want to be in my Genesis cover band?
CHRIS: Only if you'll be in my Mike & The Mechanics cover band.

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