This might be the best thing Rush ever did.

These are the only CDs I still own.

My laptop battery is probably going to die before I finish this one.

The band has agreed that Sunday’s practice is going to include lots of butchering Rush songs.  They are just too tough for weekend warrior types like us, but they are still insane fun to struggle with.

Mike and I have been going back and forth suggesting things to try.  We’re both trying to find things that are on the easier side, of course.  I’ve been putzing around my iTunes library looking for ideas.  Mike threw out New World Man and it sure sounds easy.  Knowing those psychos though the easy sounding stuff will tie our hands in knots and melt our brains.  He also suggested The Garden, which would please my wife to no end, and it might be doable if we dumb it down a bit.  We don’t have strings, and the piano interlude would have to be dealt with.

I accidentally deleted the song Fly By Night from my iTunes library.  Idiot.  I replaced it from Apple Music and then made a bunch of Apple Music playlists.  Studio albums, live albums, and deluxe editions.  I’m going to kinda drown myself in them for a while.  Days.  Weeks.  Yeah, probably.

The groove at the end of Losing It is absolutely savage.  No one ever thinks of that song, but damn what a riff.

I suggested Dreamline because I vaguely remember being able to fake my way through it.  I also thought maybe A Passage to Bangkok, but those vocal parts are really high.  When I pulled albums into the studio playlist a couple of them failed on the first try.  I had to add them a second time.  One of them was Grace Under Pressure.  I think I want to play Distant Early Warning because it is effin’ awesome.

I just read an article that collected a bunch of celebrity messages from twitter.  All of the usual suspects.  Members of bands they toured with in the early days.  People he inspired to start playing who later became friends.  Brian Wilson.  That Brian Wilson.  I don’t know why, but reading Brian Wilson paying tribute to Neil Peart just made me so happy.  Of all people, they brains behind The Beach Boys was a fan.

Neil lost his daughter to a car accident when she was 18 years old.  A year later he lost his first wife to cancer.  He remarried and had a second daughter.  She’s probably in her early teens now, I think.  We lost a hero.  She lost her dad.  This is epic suck for us, but it’s so much worse for her.  All of the collective hearts of the entire fandom need to go out to her.  Mine does, at least.

My father’s hero was Ted Williams.  He saw Ted retire and go out on top with a home run in his last at bat.  He also saw Ted die.  I saw Rush go out on top with one of their best albums and the tour to end all tours.  Now this.  It dawned on me that while my father had to see his hero die, I am going to have to go through this three times.  This is just the first round.  Please let there be a good 30 years before we see this again.

I’m just really sad.  I don’t even know what I’m saying.

I guess my laptop battery had enough juice to get through this after all.

There are going to be more of these.  This is going to take a while to get through,  You’ve been warned.

I stole this image from the interwebs.  I wanted this because when I was in school and needed to buy saxophone reeds I would go to Tewksbury Music Center on the corner of Main and Chandler streets.  When you walked in the door they had this hanging on the wall on your immediate left.  I thought it was pretty much the coolest photo of drums ever.  I still kinda do.

It was fitting that the music store where I bought about a million sax reeds and took my first guitar lessons and bought about a million guitar strings would prominently display a member of my favorite band right by the front door so that it was always the first thing you saw.  That was fitting to me.  That made sense.  It still does.

Rest in peace, Professor.

 

The Professor was in this picture, I swear. I couldn’t see him but I could hear him.

My work day ends in about half an hour.  You can bet that 2112 is going to be blasting out of my car at full volume all the way home.

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the balls.

My 10 year old self is balling his eyes out right now.  My 48 year old self is just plain old sad.

Rest in Peace, Neil Peart.

My wife is home sick.  I got an atrocious night’s sleep last night and on top of feeling like a wrung out dishrag I am also afraid that my immune system is going to collapse and catch me some of her sickness.  Crap.

Last night I found out that all three of my mother’s siblings have either recently had or are expecting soon some really crappy health news.  Nothing like everyone having problems at once, right?

Bellana is going back to school this weekend.  She’s at her dad’s from now until she leaves.  This morning was my last chance to see her.  I was ready to leave for work and she was still in bed.  I knew she was getting up early to go to work as well, and also that she had stayed up pretty late last night packing, so I didn’t wake her up to say goodbye.  What a schmuck.  I totally should have.  Now I’m not going to see her again until… who knows when.  Moron.  I was being nice and letting her sleep when I should have been a selfish asshole and woke her up for a minute.  Putz.

Jen is still going to see her tomorrow as they are meeting my mother in law for a play in the afternoon.  At least Jen will get to see her again before she goes.  I care more about that than anything, even if I am a little jealous.

I’m going to be home alone for a while tomorrow.  I thought about going to see Star Wars again but I think I’ll save the money (and wait for the rumored extended cut that might be coming out soon).  I am going to have to go and get my hair cut.  I can’t put it off much longer.  I am still so shell shocked by the horrible last haircut that I am seriously afraid.  I don’t want to get butchered again.  I should just let it grow wild forever.  I’ll look like cousin It soon enough, but that isn’t so bad.

We scheduled a band practice for Sunday.  It was originally going to be early-ish, but now it’s back to the usual 6:00 with the expectation that it will be cancelled.  I need to play.  I am still afraid of how the last time felt.  My left hand is actually starting to hurt as I type this.  Just thinking about playing sets me off now.  Stupid psychosomatic hypochondriac jerk.

The final crappy thing about this weekend: It’s my turn to sit with my mother tonight while my father does his weekly volunteering.  The sub shop next door to my parents’ house, the same place that catered our wedding, is closed.  Permanently.  It happened last week.  The catering business is still operating but the restaurant is done.  Where the hell am I going to get my chicken finger dinner now?  It’s a disaster.  A total unholy disaster.

I am 3.5 hours away from quitting time… and despite all the crap I am so ready for this weekend.  It can’t get here fast enough.