Sunday, June 19

4:35 pm

Venue

If I was a racehorse they'd shoot me.

Jesus Christ, I don't know when I've ever felt this awful.  The popped calf last summer wasn't this bad.  Drugs or not, I hardly slept last night, my back is killing me, I'm hobbling around on crutches with this fucking brace.

Maybe they should just shoot me.

But first I gotta do soundcheck.

Gonna be some shitty show tonight.  But Goddammit, I'm doing it.  Motherfucking pain pills and all.

Think this is the Music Gods telling me it's time to pack it in.  This tour was it, the final straw.  Too damned long, too damned big, too damned much.  Why the fuck did I let the promoters talk me into this shit?  We're all just barely holding it together, physically, mentally, emotionally....  All this time away from our families, all the abuse our bodies are taking.

I'm done.  These last few shows, then I'm done.  Gonna stay home and play with my kids and cook dinner for my wife and visit my daughter in college.

Done.

6:55 pm
Dressing Room

Is it possible for an employee to sexually harass her Boss?

Today's fortune:  "Your passport photo doesn't do your nude photos justice."

Dawn?

Nah....

Surely not.

I don't think so, anyway....

7:55 pm

Dressing Room

My Wife is amazing.  I can hardly speak, my heart is so full from what she's done for me this time.  Just sitting here, smiling like a goof from my pain meds and from pure, unadulterated Joy.

She's here.

My Baby flew all night and half the day to get to me.  She said knows how much I need her right now, and she needs to be with me too.  She said nothing else matters to her right now but me.

God, I love her so much.

After I finally stopped kissing her and let her take a breath Cate told me what happened.  She said the minute she heard what happened Friday she couldn't think of anything else but me.  When she had a break she called her boss to extend her leave that she already had scheduled to come to London, then she called the airline and got herself on the next flight home.

Cate wanted to get to me as soon as possible, which I understand.  She still feels guilty that she wasn't there when I got hurt last time, at Giants.  But then when she went back into her meeting the Judge -- I guess she was in some court thing -- shut everything down for the day and told everybody to come back tomorrow.

So she was pissed, had to call back and rebook her flight for Saturday night.  She said she hardly slept Friday, she kept worrying about me.  But she didn't want to tip me off to her plans, just in case something went wrong and she couldn't make it over here.  She said that sucked, talking to me and hearing me so out of it and in pain and biting her tongue to keep from telling me she'd be here soon to take care of me.

In all honesty I'm not sure if I would have remembered her telling me she was coming anyway--everything after the Vicodin's kind of a blur, ha ha.  But she's right, knowing she was trying to get to me and being delayed by her job would have just been more torturous for me.

Saturday morning Cate got up and went to wherever she had to go and only half the people were there so they ended up sitting around waiting.  Her contact or whoever told her they may have to reschedule for Monday.  Cate's answer to that was "Bullshit."  She told whoever she was meeting with they had 4 hours to get their shit done, then she was leaving whether they liked it or not.

So apparently that kicked things into high gear and calls got made and people showed up.  And Cate did exactly what she said she threatened, got up and left when it was time, went to the airport, and got on the last flight out.  If she hadn't made that plane she would still be stuck there.

No flights out on Sunday?  Where the fuck was she, anyway?

Anyhow, Cate flew back to New York, had the duty agent meet her at JFK in the middle of the damned night, handed off her gun and her leave paperwork and some case stuff, then turned right around and got on a redeye to London.  She said she barely made her connecting flight to Denmark; she was afraid she wasn't going to get here before the show started.  And she knew I needed to see her before I go out there on that stage tonight.

She's right.  I do need her.  So very much.

She looks like hell, exhausted from frustration and worry and traveling and being way upside down timewise.  She's using my shower right now, trying to wash the "travel ick" off her, as she says.  Wish I could get in there with her and just hold her and kiss her and wash her hair, but with this stupid brace and icepack on my knee there just ain't no way.  Besides, Dawn would kill me.  I'm already dressed and my hair's done, ha ha.

All Cate has with her is her laptop and the carryon she packed for her little 2-day trip to somewhere warm.  She said she froze her ass off on the way over here from the airport; it ain't supposed to be this cold in the summertime, ha ha.  Dawn set Cate up with one of my shirts and jackets for the show since she doesn't have anything clean with her.  She's gonna have to go shopping tomorrow, pick up some clothes and girl stuff.

But she's here.  That's what matters.  I don't care what she looks like.  She's here, and she's staying with me the whole next couple weeks.  All the way through Dublin.  That makes me so fucking happy I can hardly stand it.

She didn't tell anybody she was doing this.  She didn't even call Matty until she was on the plane from London, and then just to ask him to send a car to the airport because she was afraid if she had to rely on public transportation she wouldn't get here in time to see me before the show.  My Wife and my Little Bro conspiring to take care of me again.

I'm one lucky Bastard.  A banged up, broke down Old Bastard, but a lucky one for sure.

Gonna get through this show and get outta town, somewhere I can curl up with my Wife and lick my wounds and try to heal.  Someplace quiet, just us, away from the Circus.

But now I know I can do it.  After that fucking wretched soundcheck I actually seriously doubted my ability to make it through this show.  I haven't done that since the 80s, when my chords were shot.

But My Baby's here.  And I got good painkillers and one good leg and a fucking great band.  I can leap tall buildings in a single bound, bum knee or not,  ha ha.  I'm fucking Superman.

Bring it on, Denmark.  Gonna kick your ass.