Thursday, February 10

1:45 am
Home

Sitting here watching Cate sleep.

Tired as hell, feel like crap.  Show is over, which is about the best thing I can say about it.  Tomorrow -- well, later today --  I'll worry about how we're gonna regroup and make Friday night 100% better.

Until then I need to wrap myself around my wife and hold her, draw strength from her, let her comfort me.

Thank God I'm sleeping in my own bed tonight.

It's good to be home.

10:45 pm
Bed

I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone.  I'm not even really sure what damned day it is.  I'm just going where my calendar tells me to go at what the fuck ever time I'm supposed to be wherever.

Sleep?  What's that?  Down time?  Who?

I'm too fucking old for this shit.  Why do I keep letting myself get sucked into project after project after project?  I was done with acting, but I spent all fucking day freezing my ass off on a movie set.  In between shows, no less.

This is all starting to catch up with me.  Last night's show sucked.  I knew it wasn't gonna be good even hours before I climbed up those steps onto the stage.  I just didn't feel right.  Richie was off, too.  He's been burning the candle at both ends like me, but even harder because he's doing the party circuit for his fashion line.  We both fucked things up big time last night.  Made mistakes we haven't made in decades, since way back when we were nobodys opening for ZZ Top and KISS and Ratt.

That was the worst show we've done in a long damned time.  I'm still pissed -- at myself, at the band, at the crew... but mostly at myself.  I'm better than that.  WAY damned better than I was last night.  I'm Jon Fucking Bon Jovi.  I'm the guy who takes you to another place when you come to my shows, who makes you a Believer.  Even if you hate my fucking guts walking in the door, you walk out humming one of my songs, even if you still think I'm a prick.

I was so pissed off this morning at breakfast that Cate basically told me to shut the fuck up and call her when I was in a mood to be civil.  After my workout I pulled up a couple YouTubes of the show, which just pissed me off more.  I was awful.

But yet there were thousands of people singing my praises, talking about how great the show was, best show they've ever seen.  Makes me a little nauseous to read those comments.  But I'm sure there are plenty more out there that are the complete opposite.  There's never a scarcity of people ready to jump on my mistakes and trumpet to the world what a fucking talentless hack I am.

I called Cate from my trailer on the set and apologized up and down.  She doesn't deserve my shit.   Especially since all I really wanted to do today is stay locked away in our room with her in my arms and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist.

Four hours.  That's all I'm gonna have with my wife today.  And then I won't see her again until next Wednesday.    And that's only if she doesn't have to go out of town, which she might.  If that happens I won't be with her again for almost two weeks.

I haven't even had a chance to sit down and talk to Cate about Jesse. Was planning to do that tonight, but she got home late and I didn't get off the set until almost 8 pm and then we had a late dinner and I had to pack for my early flight to Pittsburgh tomorrow.

And now here we are, ready to go to bed.  I'm too fucking exhausted to get into such a heavy topic with her.  So I guess my choices are tell her on the phone later this week when we both have some time or wait until I get back next week.  Both choices that suck.

And I'm too fucking tired to even make love to her.

On top of all this self-created misery, I couldn't even go say goodbye to my kids today.  They're all in quarantine.  Every one of them.  Dorothea called me yesterday afternoon and told me she had to take Romeo and Jake to the Doc.  Diagnosis:  Strep Throat.  And when she got home both Jess and Steph were sick too.

Apparently a couple of Steph's friends are out from school, it's going around.  Probably where Jess got it -- from playing tonsil-hockey with his sister's friend.  Let that be a warning to him -- strep sucks but it's better than fucking gonnorhea.

So I was forbidden from going by Dorothea's to say goodbye.  I get why -- I sucked enough on my own last night without having to deal with strep.  God knows that would majorly blow.  But I feel bad for D; she's gotta take care of all the kids and try to stay healthy herself.  And of course Romeo wants Daddy and Daddy ain't there.  Again.

Sometimes my life really sucks.

So now I'm gonna turn off the light and wrap my arms around Cate for the last time for maybe weeks and try to keep my eyes open long enough to at least pillow-talk a little, one last time before I hit the road again.

I don't wanna go.