I’m with the band.

Remember going to see that über-cool avant-garde punk-jazz band no one else has heard of except your friends because your friends together comprise the members of that band, and they’re playing an exclusive set in their garage or someone’s abandoned art gallery or nearly bankrupted bar that only you and a select few who know your friends know about? The only reason you know about it anyway is because you also play a screamin’ rock guitar, and sometimes you like to throw in a sweet saxophone and watch the huddling audience of two or three just melt, like weep in a pile of quivering sweat and torn t-shirts that scream “Xanadu is God” or “Glen Campbell is my father” or “My cat loves Pet Sounds”…

Remember that? No? Because, to me, that’s the definition of being a writer.

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