Don’t worry. I’ll get the dry cleaning bill

You guys ever been to six flags? Or an amusement park in general? Well for the five of you out there who haven’t, there are these things called roller coasters. They are basically trains with teeth. You sit in a cart that is just a smidge to small. Typically sharing it’s occupancy with some big, sweaty, fat guy who clearly has never even heard of this mythical invention called ‘deodorant’. So you and, we will call him Boris, are sitting there forcing small talk until all the other sweaty people hop on board the tiny train. Once everyone is aboard you start your journey on a thin little track. It’s all pretty straight forward at first. Just going straight and up.

Eventually great anticipation starts to settle in and you start to ask a few questions. ‘I wonder what’s going to be around that bend once I reach the top? A fall downward? A corkscrew? Loop-de-loop?’. After what feels like a an eternity, you reach the top and you can see the entire park. You are the freaking king of the world for half a second. Then the pace picks up and you are hurtling back toward the earth at breakneck speeds. Only to be broken out of your crazed decent by and even crazier bend that leads to another accent. This one not nearly as controlled as the first. Immediately afterward you are hit by a reverse corkscrew then a followed by another sudden drop. This decent into madness continues until you are slowed down and hit the end of the track. ‘But there is no platform. Why did we stop? This can’t be the end of the ride.’ You think to yourself, until you realize that you are starting to move again. This time in the opposite direction. Doing the whole thing again… in reverse. One hell of a thrill ride but not for the faint of heart. Like your cart buddy Boris, whom at the end of all this has gotten sick on your shoes.

It’s easy to make fun of Boris. The large flabby man who couldn’t keep down his corn-dog after one loop-de-loop. The truth is though, we have all been in Boris’s shoes. We think we can take the ride despite the fact that we just had a nutritious meal of hot-dogs, fries, and a nice cold 52oz coke. I can feel for Boris. I’ve been Boris for the past few months, and I’ve just gotten off the ride, and I just barfed on your shoes… and I’m sorry.

A lot has happened since I last wrote you my beautiful people. There is much to fill you guys in on. Things I couldn’t possibly even attempt to cram in one blog post. Some, I’m not quite ready to share yet. What I can tell you guys now is that I’m back. You could say it’s been one hell of journey. If by ‘journey’ you meant feeling like you’ve been kicked in the nads repeatedly by a seasoned Brazilian soccer player with steel cleats than yes, ‘journey’. Regardless, life goes on, wounds will heal, and the Punk Musical will once again live.

So, I invite you guys, once again, to join me on my travels as I assent the stairs to rockstardom. One clumsy step at a time.