Too Old For Music - Nah

Today is Make Music in Pasadena day. A bunch of music performers will descend on the joint and play in real time. It is about non-top 40 music. Most of these folks will have their clothes on and will be able to sing without computer enhancement.



This is a good thing. Finding moments and performers you had no clue they were on the planet.

I'm going even though being a cubical bunny is not preparation enough to be walking 10 or more blocks and back. Not to mention trying to find the re-routed buses that will take me home.

Yet I need to walk. To see the trees. The bums and hobos interacting with a in-flux of hipsters. The real folks taking a day for themselves and chilling to some tunes. The pissed off drivers who will have to take side road and get lost and still try to bust through a baracade with cops looking them dead in the eye.

I've seen it happen. Twice.

I'm going. I don't know any of the performers. I do know there will be food trucks. Some day I will see the legendary Kogi truck and bow to the greatness of the Roy. This year I'm hitting the back streets for the alley bands and non-pop performers. 

And though I have rested and prepared I know I'm gonna take one step too far.

Today I walk.

Tomorrow there will be pain. Feet will be angry. Certain joints will commiserate with the feet. That fire shrimp burrito will do a number on my stomach that I will pray to the gods to intercede for mercy.

Tomorrow I'll have to do laundry, finish my homework, work on a portfolio piece and other things that won't get done because I freaking will hurt until the ibuprofen and ice packs kicks in.

It will be worth it to hear that voice or band that rocked the hell out of a tune that can't be replicated no matter how many times they perform live. And to hold that in my heart for a moment is worth any pain the flesh can conjure.