The Frontier Brothers on Rock Remedy: Part 3 (The One In Which We Talk Porn Star Names)

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The Frontier Brothers on Rock Remedy: Part 2

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Part 2, Monday and Tuesday

I spent most of my time back in Fort Worth shooting up shit at gun ranges and hanging out with my friend Rob. He got in nasty reck about four weeks back and is now in a wheel-chair, numb from about the top of the chest down. When I first saw him, his legs twitched and I was ready to call a miracle. Turns out it's just feedback loop of some sort. The signal goes back and forth between the injured chord and the legs, forever and seemingly at random. Rob says that eventually he'll be a able to predict when they spasm and it will help him move around better.

His hands work, though, his arms and everything above the chest. But the core is dead, unresponsive. Only his shoulders and arms heave all that bulk around. I asked him what he thought about his lower extremities atrophying, whether it was sad to him, like it was going away forever. But no, he said, it was better, the stuff was getting lighter and easier to move around. Rob sticks to practicalities because he has to. There's certainly time to reflect on the symbolism of atrophying legs and glutes, but no real reason. And I realized that none of this shit is me, not my legs or arms or balls - they're willing servants until they fall out of contact. Because Rob is quite the same, he is still here. It made me wonder, where exactly was he?
Anyway, he kicked my ass at Call of Duty 5 and we shot the shit. Rob is a calm soul enveloping like smoke a terrible luck and making it slowly disappear.

The Moon, Saturday, and Rock and Knowing how far

Part 1, Saturday

Saturday was one of the those moments that appear like sign posts telling you you've gotten somewhere. For most of my life, I've been in the band next door, getting claps from only my close friends and going on early, barely filling up the floors of a venue too large for us. That's the worst feeling, almost as depressing as huge, new stores with plenty of employees standing empty, everybody with nothing to do. And you get a needle in the chest, of sympathy, when an employee eagerly seeks you out, desperate.

But that was not The Frontier Brothers saturday, not at all. We were the band on the other side of the divide, that, although seemingly miniscule to most, is extremely difficult to pass successfully. We were the guys with the crowd, the kind that piss you off when you first start a band - how did they get there?
The Moon, respectable and medium sized. Fitted probably 120 people. We had lines out the door. Some of our friends had to wait thirty minutes in the cold. I regret that. But it sure did make me feel good. This pride was like my first slice of cake and I always want more when dealing with real cake, it's so good, but mostly I prefer pies, like pecan, pumpkin, and apple cinnamon pie. The only cake I enjoy is black forest cake from Swiss Pastry Shop on vickery. Soon it will be gone. They're building a highway. The reason I don't like much cake is because of the icing, it's piled on too thickly. At birthday parties when I was younger I'd end up with big globs of icing on my plate because I scraped it off to get to the cooked batter part.
So I'll get more of this pride cake and for that we must play more shows, more and more and more and more shows, everywhere.

The Frontier Brothers on Rock Remedy: Part 1

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