It's Not a Day Wasted

Seeing the Slow Gherkin reunion last week had me thinking all sorts of stupid tripe that I wasn't sure should really be put out in to the ether, but here I find myself on the toilet pooping and typing away while the Wire plays in the next room.

Slow Gherkin played such a big part in my development as a person, insomuch as that music has played a huge role in my life, and Slow Gherkin is one of the few lasting musical influences in my life that has withstood the transition from teenager with poor taste to balding young adult with slightly less questionable taste. I was never under the illusion that Slow Gherkin were superstars of any sort, but always thought of them as a band that had made it. A touring band, with records on Asian Man Records, playing all across the country and around the world. I was just happy that I could see them locally a million times a year if I so chose, because other people around the country wouldn't have had the same chance.

Now that I have many of the same achievements under my belt as they did (Asian Man, tours, blah blah blah, poorly attended local shows) I can't help but feel really strange about how I admired them so much. Make no mistake, I still admire the hell out of them, but it's strange feeling extremely ordinary as I do knowing that they are ordinary just like me. There's probably some kids out there who thought the world of Shinobu, not fully grasping how ordinary we really were (and are).

However, I still feel like Slow Gherkin's existence was so much more significant than Shinobu's, by far! But, I found it a bit heartening to think that maybe someone might feel the same way about me and my friends as I did about my teenage heroes. I'm still considering my options as far as continuing to pursue the rock & roll lifestyle, but I'm extremely happy to see these people that I so admire living their lives and being real people. I don't feel so bad about, nor fear, facing my life and living it.