When I was 19, I made my first good week’s pay as a club musician. It was enough money for me to quit my job at the factory and still pay the rent and buy some food. I freaked.
I’ve tried to avoid that all my life. When I wrote about soldiers in Vietnam, I wasn’t trying to make a political statement. I was trying to write about how screwed things were for soldiers, and how they still are.
So before we end And then begin We’ll drink a toast to how it’s been A few more hours to be complete A few more nights on satin sheets A few more times that I can say, I’ve loved these days.
When I first started I didn’t know a lot about the job, so I kinda had to figure it out by wire, ya know? It was hit and miss, I made mistakes, and fortunately I was able to recover from most of ’em.
