acoustic killer...

a few nights ago this dude plays at the bar. solo. some long-haired screechy dude. brought three guitars with him. watched his parents unload the van and set up his gear. set up a merch table, dad ran that. dad tried to charge people cover. dude, nobody's here to see your kid. i figure it's one of those situation where he's an only child and mommy and daddy worship the ground he walks on. why do you need three guitars to play in a pub? there are eight people here, why are you screaming? dude finishes his set and is standing around, trying to talk to the three or four people who are still there. meanwhile, mommy and daddy load up all his gear into the van. spoiled brat. how are you going to stand there and watch your mom lugging an amp while you're trying to talk to some girl who you have no chance of scoring with? why do parents fuck up their kids' heads with this worship-the-ground-you-walk-on shit? sorry man, your music isn't that good, your singing style leaves much to be desired, and you're ugly. go be a lawyer or something, cut your hair, nobody cares. mommy, daddy, i know you love your son, and you want him to follow your dreams, but he's not going to be a star. you need to realize this, you need to move on.

okay?

i just typed up this whole story about what happened yesterday when i went for a run, but sometimes, you just gotta keep certain things to yourself...