Today, Mark asked me what was with all the chairs. I wish I had a good answer. Perhaps they sounded like a good idea initially...now however they're just a burden. 7 purple heavy ass dust collecting albatrosses, that I have to carry up and down stairs for every rehearsal.
I try to convince myself its a warm up. That the exertion is good. Which is just mitigating to myself a very stupid situation.
I hate those chairs.
I hate them like I hate people who kick dogs, or make them fight bloody bet ridden battles to the death, and then when they're ghetto gusto buries the poor canine corpse they kick them in the grave. I hate those chairs like I hate those people.
Perhaps I need to learn how to love the chairs. Come to appreciate their moldy doom and ridiculous weight. Their swivel that glides with such well oiled pivoting ease.
I will work to love my albatross.