I genuinely thought about going to Erie, Pennsylvania this weekend. No reason.
I could have hit some rock n’ roll shows in Steubenville, Youngstown, and Pittsburgh…
Maybe I could have had a pig in competition in the livestock pavilion at the state fair…
Listened to Del Paxton’s Time to Blow...
Oneders Night! Erie’s favorite one-hit wonders!
Up until yesterday afternoon I was considering it, but the drive to Erie and back — six hours, each way and needing to stay overnight — really made the decision for me. Work deadlines kicked my buttocks this week, and I need some downtime. I’ve have loved the experience — a road trip, a new ballpark, the Oneders reunion — and the Erie Seawolves were playing the Harrisburg Senators, but I didn’t need the expense, and I’m not as young as I used to be.
It will probably always nag me that I didn’t go, but I’ll be okay.
I should work on that sequel script to That Thing You Do! I keep talking about; that’s nagging at me, too. It will never get made, but I like the central idea of it, and I should put it down on paper. And, weirdly, the death of Charlie Watts last week gave me another idea; Watts, like Skitch Patterson, was a jazz drummer, not a rock drummer, and jazz was his love.
Tomorrow morning I’ll decide if I want to go to the York Revolutions’ Spaceballs night. Disney pumped the breaks on minor league teams’ Star Wars nights this year, which I am perfectly fine with. They used to be special, but they became ubiquitous, and the specialness is gone.