9am Sunday Morning

Last Saturday my band had the pleasure of performing with one of my all time favorite bands, Japanther. It was at the aforementioned Mississippi:MAY art warehouse. What a neat-o setting for a rock show. Japanther set up in front of some cute little shanty's with a wheatpaste mural behind them. Some Black Label kids showed up from the bay area and brought their friends from Minneapolis and they played an opening set. I am looking for pictures to clue you in completely.
Show Me The Pink had a Beach Cruisin' Cruise on the way to the spot. People were dressed in bikinis and safety vests, krew vests and tallbikes. They filmed a video to be used for our first music video. We'll have to cut and paste me in because I was at work. If you, the reader, have any links to photos, I would love them.
dd/mm/yyyy played a rocking set, Japanther didn't play as long as I would have wanted them to. I was running around in circles that night, making sure people had stuff they needed. I had my hands deep in the organization, so by the time I was ready to play, I was sober still. Which is good, but not in this case. I screwed up so many of my parts. I forgot one of the songs that I made up completely. I just looked at this black and white pattern in front of me and was at a total loss. Holy shit. I played worse than when I first learned to play. It didn't help that every single boy I have a crush on or kissed in three states were standing in front of me with their arms crossed. I couldn't sleep that night. I had spent so much energy on making this event fly that when it came time to perform, I might as well have been a kindergartener standing in.
I couldn't sleep at all that night. I kept reliving the trauma-rama. I woke up at 9 am that sunday morning because my conscience was still throwing darts at my self esteem.