So when does the fat lady sing

I pulled up to what looked like an old loading dock. In front of the structure, was a railroad track that just happened to have a circus train parked on it. I called my friend to make sure I was in the right location. I felt like I was on CSI about to scalevant the premises for some ground breaking evidence!

He opened the door to the building and we walked down a long hallway. Along the walls were an old vintage couch and boxes and boxes of a young man's cds. I smelled the incense and was interested to see what type of practice space we were heading into.

As Brendan opened the door my eyes lit up. I had never seen a space so amazing other than back in downtown la at my friend Crazy James. Every wall was covered in a story. Everything just breathed history and authenticity. I felt as if i had warped myself back home to CA where things made sense and moving forward was easy.

We sat down on a red velvet sectional. I took out my notebook and pen and grabbed the brilliant blue and gold indian inspired pillow from behind my back and into my lap. As I situated myself into the couch, Brendan had asked how life had been the past few days and somehow we got to talking about home in Santa Barbara. "Do you ever feel like you are just living for the day hoping the next day will be better" I couldn't have agreed more.

We continued our writing session with fervor and Brendan began to get hungry. We took a quick break and went to a local fave Mexican restaurant. We decided to get our meals to go. As we got back in the car a few more lines for our song came forward. We were anxious to eat, but as we got out of the car into the brisk afternoon air, Brendan told me about the circus train.

Apparently while the circus is in town, the train stops on the track. The performers use the train cars similar to a tour bus. After a long night of jumping, leaping, singing, and awing the crowd, they retreat back to the train cars. 'Wow' i thought what an amazing life. A life that never truly stops! It keeps going and going and going.

We walked back inside, and the familiar smell of incense enveloped my entire being and I was excited to finish our song. As we sat down to eat we got to talking more about home and what we missed about it. The food, the air, the people. As Brendan unrolled his last fish taco a strange burned like fragment rolled out. He looked at me, I looked at it, then looked at him, and he looked back down on it.

Brendan picked up this, what now looked like a burned end of a green onion and smelled it. As he sniffed it his nose twitched a little. He looked at me than slowly motioned the object close to my nose. As I smelled it we both started laughing hysterically. It wasn't an onion...it was the end of marijuana joint.

It was a strange relief to our conversation of home. It was beginning to get depressing discussing what I would be doing had I been back on the coast of California. The joint brought on a new adventure past the mundane day of waking up, going to work, writing a song, going to bed, lying awake wondering what my life is for. but it was a small smile to the mountain top of repetition for the day.

As we wrapped up our session and headed to my house to record a crap track, I took one last look at the train. I miss the road. I miss the excitement. I miss the adventure. I miss knowing that at the end of the long road a home awaits me. or does it. I wonder still what day i will lead tomorrow, and what person i would be if I stuck to staying at home, and if there has been any good of me moving and continuing my "dream". But! The Show must always go on, and the fat lady always sings over ..and over ..and over...it never truly stops...and I never truly will know.