Tomorrow night, Mr. Z is performing a song on piano for his school's talent show. It's great, we didn't even ask him if he wanted to do it. He said, "I'm going to play a song in the talent show" and that was it. He doesn't seem to be nervous at all and can't wait to perform. He sure as shit didn't inherit that trait from me.
I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I never really got used to playing on stage. It was easier for me, being a drummer and all, 'cuz I was sitting in the back and didn't really have to interact with the crowd. But my stomach was always twisted in knots before a show - which didn't always mix well with my highly "irritable bowel syndrome."
That, and the fact that I used to drink shitloads of beer before, during and after the show made for a heady fecal stew coursing through my quavering poop-tubes. I remember shows where I literally had to stop, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SONG, MIND YOU, and bolt to the crapper. I'd start sweating and then get these waves of cramps, and I'd know that ol' Crack-atoa was gonna blow in a matter of seconds. And you know, it sure didn't fucking help that I was already sitting down -- that's like giving your heinous a license to crap.
Looking back, I guess it would've been more "rock-n-roll" to just sit there and shit my pants. The thing is, it's pretty fucking hardcore to choke on your own vomit, but soaking in a pantload of butt-mud for an hour or so just didn't seem all that romantic. (I guess instead of groupies, I'd have poupies.)
Anywhich, I hope Mr. Z has a good experience with his first performance and never has to deal with opening-night shitters. I'll be sure to give him a nice bland dinner beforehand. And no Schlitz tall-boys until after the gig.