To be a little bit more descriptive in my recollection of last night:

-Playing to a room of 20 friends is more difficult than playing to 2,000 strangers.

-No one should ever play for longer than 25 minutes unless there exist 2,000 strangers in the world that like his or her music. Fuck 90 minute sets for nobodies.

-The bald, dwarf-like, texan/boston man who pretended that he owned the place was frightening when he encouraged me to tell my friends to buy beer. I didn't plan on making money. I don't care if your cafe makes money. I don't plan on playing there again.

-I also don't plan on playing again for a long time. There is literally no point. Life is a toilet.

-Playing solo in a quiet venue is also difficult, strictly from a banter perspective. This is compounded when you have to tune in between every song because your guitar is still warping from the temperature change.

-Broke a string in the middle of a song. Guitar could not stay in tune. Knew that there was no way to finish it. In retrospect, I either should have passed the end of the song off as an intimate, a capella moment, or played the rest of the song on one string. My boss told me today that whenever he breaks a string, he immediately just jumps into a Star-Spangled Banner instrumental on one string.

-Continuing on that broken string, I just paused for a minute and got my backup guitar out, then resumed. Bonerkill. It revealed that my songs aren't completely dependent on technology, even though I felt like overdrive/reverb/delay would have really made the last songs fun.

-Jef and I agreed to split any money we received proportional to our set times--75-25. When handed our pity pay of $40 at the end of the night, Jef pocketed $20.

-My girlfriend traveled 3 hours to surprise me at the show. She is wonderful, but pretty bad at pulling off surprises.

-Song choice: sang "Fewer Moving Parts" by Bazn. It's about him leaving the old band Pedro and not regretting it. My best friends/old bandmates were in attendance. My situation is completely opposite in that I would literally do anything to play with them again. Good job going to college, Mike.

-Song choice: cut out two songs that would have been excruciating to watch: "---" and "end of an era". Too slow, not actual songs, in that they were both incomplete thoughts that I stamped as finished. Also, if I made my friends sit through eight more minutes of that they might have stopped talking to me altogether.

-Couldn't look at my parents during "horse in a hole." Afterwards I saw my mother blowing her nose and wiping her smeared makeup. Today she said she wanted to see the lyrics if I would be okay with that.

-I felt like I could just unplug and be done every single second of the set. Even before I started I thought it would be cool if I just didn't play. Thanks for coming, bye. But I plowed through it, because that's what I do now. Plow, plow, plow. Don't like how it turned out afterwards? Disregard.

-It felt masturbatory...but isn't that being a musician? I guess if you're getting 2,000 strangers off at the same time as yourself, that's probably less masturbatory than beating off in front of friends who are just there to show support.

-Afterwards I went with B and played Fallout until 3:30 AM. What happened to my life?

-There won't be any more shows until recording is done. Not unless it's a 15 minute opening slot. Cover-free, action packed.

End transmission.