Two days until the big show and I am FREAKING THE FUCK OUT! It's kind of like what you felt like the night before Christmas when you were a kid. I keep staring at the clock, willing it to go forward, I can't eat, I can't sleep. All I seem to be able to do is smoke and have diarrhea. Woo-hoo.
Last night I kept having the recurring dream that I was very sick and kept throwing up a combination of white paste and carriage bolts. And every time I'd see a carriage bolt in the mess of white paste puke I'd say to myself "Oh, that's why I'm sick". What the hell does that mean for me and the future of my marriage?
Anyway, I have no point today. I am just a bundle of nerves and nervous energy.
Marriage, who knew?
P.S. The journal will return Monday, July 10. Until then I will be basking in wedded bliss on beautiful Block Island.
I just had a mental picture - Several years down the road Joe shows his journal to his kid and says: "Son, and this is how I felt a couple of days before I married your mom."
The hard part's over, dude; you got the girl, and she's a keeper. The rest is just rental chairs and cover songs. Have fun, good luck, and we'll see you on the other side. Welcome to the club.
