Concerted In the Trophy of a Moment: Unease
posted by March 11 at 10:31 AMon
Backstage before a concert this past weekend, two men huddled closely to their respective bottles of beer making small talk. They did not know each other. One man, largely unkempt, was the bass player in the opening band about to go on. The other was there to see the headliner.
The man who was there to see the headliner asked the bass player what he usually did before he went on stage. The bass player replied, “Usually, I fuck,” then looked up from his beer with an empty, open, and inquisitive gaze.
Suddenly the bass player appeared as he really was: a wet ox in heat. It was monsoon season and he was ready.
There was silence for a bit and the man who was there to see the headliner said, “So when is you all’s next show?” The bass player said nothing. He put his down his beer, went onstage, and played his set.