Classic Country Is My Prozac
I remember Mondays at The Palace of Rock. This was the time when I really was a barfly, drinking lots almost every night. Mondays had one of the local celebrities onstage, singing. He isn't bad, it just wasn't my style. I ended up going to another bar on Mondays -- and most every night -- with The Artist. We would sit and talk about everything we could think of. We never left the bar before bar time. Sometimes he would pull out his big art book and just draw.

One Monday night, The Artist wasn't there. And I really didn't feel like spending time in the Bar of Disgruntled GenXers. Some were punks, others were normal looking, some were dressed to the nines. Granted, I myself am technically considered a GenXer but for the most part, it's a group I'm excluded from. So I decided to venture into the The Palace of Rock. I asked Paul who was playing, expecting that the local celebrity was playing. Instead, it was D.J. Craig and country tunes. It was okay -- at this point, I didn't care about it at all and just wanted to stare into my beer. There weren't a lot of people there, mainly because the local celebrity wasn't playing. They'd open the door, peer in, and then leave.

Then The Artist decided to take a long trip to Texas. I had lost my drinking buddy. Right at this point, I broke up with my fiancee and now had no idea what to do. You know how, when you've just made a hard decision and are feeling a lot of pain, people will tell you that they're there for you? Don't believe them. I kept trying to talk to people but other dramas overshadowed mine and for the most part, it was just me, my problems, and my beer. (Mind you, this is also after the fire, everyone was getting tired of my whining.) And I started going to The Palace of Rock a lot, mainly to look for John, because, stupid me, I thought he'd at least listen to me ramble even if he didn't care. (He mysteriously dropped out of sight, but that's another story....) I was there almost every night, watching cartoons, listening to live music. But Mondays started getting better. I actually started listening to the music, to the tunes that D.J. Craig pumped out. I was always there at 10 o'clock sharp. Most of the time it was just me, the bartender, and the D.J. But soon, people started to come to Classic Country Music Mondays.

As word got out, more and more people started coming to it. At first, it was Mr. Wiskey and Water. He was a huge fan of classic country, especially the songs that were simultaneously sad and funny. He is quite theatrical when he sings along with the music. One of the well-known drunks started making appearances there. Suddenly, the whole world is showing up to this hole-in-the-wall, second rate bar for some good doses of depressing fun. Last night, there was a very large crowd there...the largest yet. I'm still the A-plus student -- I'm there at ten, I sit myself down, and settle in with a pitcher of beer and a pack of cigs. Even though D.J. Craig doesn't D.J. anymore, it still is an interesting night of tears in your beer, wussy men who are heartbroken over their morally corrupt wives/girlfriends/lovers, tales of the evils of the debouchery-filled honky tonk bars, women getting mad at their good-for-nothing men, and the occasional rockabilly/war/patriotic song. I have fun but I also learned that sometimes a song can be very theraputic.

Oh, and ladies, if you marry the character in "Walk On By" (by Leroy Van Dyke), don't be fooled and don't be charmed. Make sure his tune changes to "Alright, I'll Sign The Papers" (by Mel Tillis). Just a friendly warning...