Alright, it’s like this:
So-and-so did you wrong. Really F’d up right? And it sucks. But time passes, and the pain and ick of it sort of wear down to a dull edge.
It still sucks. But life goes on, right?
Every once in awhile, however, something happens and it all comes rushing back–along with all the pain and resentment.
People say, let it go. Move on. Forgive. Be happy. No big deal. Build a bridge and get over it.
They’re right, of course, and you know it, but you can’t help yourself. You keep picking at the scab. You search for answers. None come. You hunt for reasons, but they stay hidden.
Soon the dry scab’s off. Blood seeps from the old wound and forms a drop which falls to the floor.
Or maybe it’s a tear.
But what if it was like this:
You’re in a band, right? And you’re jamming with your pals. And everything’s good. Until . . .
Jackass over here hits a wrong note.
Totally not what you expected. You thought he was better than that. Much better. So this doesn’t make any sense. None at all. It was such an easy note to hit.
What do you do?
Search for reasons? Hunt for answers? Try to make some sense of this?
It was one lousy note. The song was pretty good up until then. Do you stop? Try to figure it out?
Or do you keep jamming?
Obviously, you keep jamming.
Maybe you look up. Jackass (I mean Al) greets your gaze apologetically. The song moves on. And by now the bad note is long gone–along with (by the way) all the good ones. And the beat goes on. So you let it. ‘Cause you’re jamming, and it’s good. And you’re kind of pumped because you’re getting to the part of the song where you have a solo–and you rock.
You rock-on. Literally.
And the only note that matters is the one you’re playing right now. There’s no time to look back, no time to look ahead much. The beat urges you ahead. The notes fly from your fingers, from your guitar or keyboard or trumpet–from your soul.
Yet each note rings for only a moment. Then it’s over. Gone.
Such is the nature of music. Such is the nature of life. Each note fills the rhythm–but the rhythm pounds ahead. Regardless. Nothing is carried with it. Everything is left behind.
And the fun is only what’s next, what’s next, what’s next.
And it’s sooo damn good that way.
You catching my drift here?
Now, if Al continues to play the wrong notes, you’re going to have to make a decision, right? Maybe he’s not taking this as seriously as you are. Maybe he’s not willing to do what it takes to be able to play with you–at your level. Maybe he just wants to Fuck around. You know, you can cheat only so long but eventually your bad habits catch up.
Maybe Al is happy playing the small gigs. The smoky, crappy, bars. Maybe you’re looking for something with a little more class. Maybe you just want to play really good music.
Anyway–if that’s the case, you may have to cut him, right? Go your separate ways.
But if it’s just one note. Or one bad gig even. I mean–what the hell right? We can all make mistakes. We can all have an off night once in awhile.
So the rest of the members of the band aren’t as talented as you. Not as “good”. What are you going to do? Try to figure out why he or she missed that last note two, five, thirty beats back?
Or are you going to keep jamming?