I Spilt Blood On The Floor.
Went singing tonight. No, we were fully dressed, don't get your hopes up.
Anyway, remember that thumb cutting trick I pulled on the guitar, playing live at the camp? You wouldn't think I'd do that twice, right?
Well, not exactly. This time I still had the pick in my hand. But one slight misjudgment and in flesh vs. steel, steel wins.
So one little slice in a finger here or there, dripping blood into a pool at my feet, you think would be fine. But no, I have to keep hitting it. The same spot with the same string, in the middle of a heartfelt song in a crowded restaurant. And every time I hit it, the blood splatters.
I'm not kidding, covering the front of the guitar and halfway up my arm with little red globs. Closest I've ever come to being embarrassed. Not quite, although I couldn't decide whether to look happy about it (S&M) or sad (the show must go on). Chose happy. In fact, I do believe I was glowing.
Imagine the singer girls' surprise when they turn around at the end of the song and find Mr. Resident Evil belting, thank you, thank you, good night, at the top of his lungs.
"OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!! TURN AROUND QUICK BEFORE ANYONE SEES YOU!!"
A little late.
Not even an, "Are you hurt?"
They meant well.
Got cleaned up with one of the dancing scarves and went to the tables like it was the Fourth of July. No one mentioned anything. This cold, unfeeling world.
So, a little bit of nightly trauma for you, to keep you happy with your own life. I hope you enjoyed it. I love you.