Rocke Block

I'm not supposed to talk about this. 

But I guess I'll tell you the truth. We can be real, right?

Not long ago, I was experiencing what you might call, "writers block". Maybe I should call it 'Rocke Block'. 

I wanted to blog about Saint Rocke. Believe me, at any given moment, I usually have so much to say. I sat in front of my laptop. Typing 'blah blah blah'...hoping something unique and amazing would ensue....But, for at least 2 weeks, I thought to myself: 'I can't spend another minute writing about Saint Rocke. Every single second of my life is consumed by the show'. I was in such an intense groove with marketing and booking and events. I stopped processing the daily activities of my own life. I was always here. Bills were overdue. The sole contents of my fridge was a block of cheese and expired milk. I even paid my rent on the 18th. (Not because I'm irresponsible. I 'conveniently prioritized'). haha  Anyway, it felt like I was always looking ahead to the next big event. My life was quickly becoming less about "Who is KT and what is she doing on any given day" to "So-and-so is playing tonight. Do you need tix? Tables? Bottle? Party? Who's party? Your party? 40 people? Sat? No problem. Meet and greet? Deadline? Holiday? Private event?" 

Non. Stop. All. Day. Long. 

It's my job. It's my passion. It's my world. But hey. Sometimes...it blows. 

See? Told you I'm not supposed to write this stuff. ;)

BUT here's where it gets interesting. The other night, I was feeling so anxious, I had to get out of town. I ventured to the far-off land ofHollywood. I longed to see the bluegrass band I've been obsessed with since high school: Leftover Salmon. (Google them immediately, or we aren't friends. Seriously.) The show was incredible. (Have you ever seen a mandolin player use a slide? Me neither. Leftover blew my freaking mind.) Anywho: I returned to the post-show parking garage shenanigans: still grinning, slightly buzzed, and feeling very chatty. I started talking/smoking with some tie-dyed dudes nearby. We talked about the band, the amazing encore, the next show in San Diego...you know, the usual. 

Soon, the dynamic duo asked me where I lived.

"Hermosa Beach." 

"Cool town! We saw ALO at a RAD club in Hermosa not long ago. It was FUCKING AWESOME."

??? *** !!!!!!!    Wait...what?

My chest puffed out, and I was a proud little peacock.

I said, "That's MY club, bro."

Right then and there: it's all worth it. 

Every headache. Every meeting. Every gamble. Every early morning/ late night combo. Every last minute, on the fly, make-it-work, show must go on, drama-rama that is driving me fucking insane on a daily basis....

Every show. 

It's all fucking worth it.  

And just like that: I was inspired.

(maniacal laugh, maniacal laugh.)

KT