cocaine.

Before going to bed last night I watched a documentary about cocaine. I believe it was the new Drugged series on National Geographic, but don't quote me. It showed real people using in front of the camera and explored the effects on the body with controlled [human] testing.

My eyelids soon grew heavy and they closed shop for the night.

I dreamed of my band, I was there with Derek, Mike and Christian. We had arrived early at a show and I ventured off somewhere, leaving Mike and Christian (Derek was out of the picture). I came back time later to find Mike and Christian "coked up" and fucked up. The vivid image of Christian's cold, beat up face still resonates in my memory (the colors, the facial expressions). I was annoyed and bothered by this, just minutes before we played.

Then our set came. It was a gym setting, dark, with a door behind us to the left (if you were looking at us head on). Derek started strumming the intro chord, as he does. As soon as the full band hits came, shit rang out. The bass and drums were wrong. So we cut and did it again. Worse this time. I can recall this performance so clearly. Fuck it. Mike counted off before we jumped into Every Dog. Mike knew I was irritated, so he purposely fucked up the first beat, simply hitting the snare drum once, then stopping. Looking.

Instinctively, I kicked over his crash cymbal. The stand toppled over and I walked away, removing my guitar from my person. Christian tried to block me from leaving through that back door. He put his hands up, bass hanging, but I just pushed him aside. I walked out and through that door, which hinted at a bright environment once passed its frames.

and the scene ended.