I kill myself

It's late, I'm exhausted, and I can't sleep.
I just finished reading a chapter of a book called Monster of God... It's about alpha predators (better known as man-eaters). I read about crocodiles and the poor people that live among them and usually suffer the most tragedy's. A good book indeed... I have been buying a lot of books lately.
The point I was going to get to was that the reason I cannot sleep has nothing to do with the "horror of Man-eaters" but rather the Horror of last nights Super Robertson Supper Show. I would gladly spend a few months being slowly digested in the gut of a large reptile than repeat last nights horror.
I remember the good old Mule said a few years back, commenting on how Roadbed shows tended to be hijacked by trumpet improvisation. He said "you have put your foot down" or something like that, and it is true.
I can no longer allow people who don't know what the fuck they are doing do do it at the Super Robertson Supper show. One idea would be to get another show at the same time on the other side of the city and call it the Super Robertson amateur Hour... It will be like a minor league team in which people who want stage time can take it there in the hopes of impressing and moving on up to the big show.

For the record, when I asked Mule to play drums seconds after he strolled into the Railway club my idea was to play bass and WB to play guitar. It was after he declined that I tried to sell WB at playing in the horn band... Which I thought had merit given his patented snare mastery. But that's all for naught and god knows what I exactly said to him who looked pinned against the wall for my mind was on the lack of good drummers, excess of horns, and presence of an amateur drummer eager to bash away... Not to mention the fact that our Sexy young female singer beat poet songwriter sure to be a star chick hadn't shown up yet and I knew she wanted a soundcheck because she plays to some CD backing tracks. Well she showed up as the show was set to start with some greasy manager and we spent 10 minutes talking about soundcheck possibilities. It would be safe to say that around that time my frustration level rose massively. She needed a soundcheck that would take as long as it would take, didn't want to go on first, and didn't even have the right equipment. Around that time things go weird.
I should have told her sorry you can't play, I told you to come @ 7 for soundcheck, your late and the show has to start... I imagine I would have had a good fight with her manager but surely that would have been a fine entertainment package.

What I should have then done was go up and play "what's in the Bag", or fuse lit bombs, or bay city kitty or something and wait for Hobbs our trusty drummer to arrive... But no I called up the horn orchestra with a bad drummer and me with a heart full of hate honking on some hollowed stick... Thinking great a 10 minute late start and then this... I pulled the curtain quick and cut into "Woodstock"... WB and Hobbs joined in and we were up and running. Now in my mind at that time and knowing what a clown show our guest was going to be I figured that there was no way she was going to play, and I actually though she left (but it was just her manager who ran over to the Pic to harass soundman nick for some gear). I tried to explain to the crowd the fiascos, and how we got off to a rocky start... Oh she is still there hiding in the back of the bar.. I see commotion at the soundboard and I figure too many people are involved, I should give her a chance, knowing full well that this is going to be a disaster.

And it was!

Nothing like seeing people leave the room... People who you have never seen before who came down to check out the show stand up and walk out the door shaking their heads... But I needed that you see, I am a nice guy, I let people try things, I show patience and hope and belief on others.

I must become in charge, and it's not ok to fuck up consistently.