by Richard Bissell
They gather by the thousands to cheer and scream, seemingly basking in the refracted glory of the stage. The sounds are so much better when created in the studio, one wonders why they even bother. Preening for hours before they leave the house as if they are somehow going to be noticed or even seen. Slobbered on and fondled by hordes of garlic breathed, large breasted men, surely they find this whole business sordid and base. I think of this as I tune my guitar and scan the mostly empty coffee house. Maybe I should have listened to my father and become an accountant.
Richard Bissell is a part time author and full time health care practitioner who lives and works outside of Boston, Massachusetts. He has three children who are all the same age but are not triplets. For more information about his unique lifestyle, please visit him here.