Max: Bliss in the Midst of Desperation

After I was fired last week, I was in a daze. I felt lost, hollow, detached from my physical self. My body was on autopilot while my brain tried to sort out what had just happened, how often it had already happened and what the hell I was going to do.

The next thing I knew, I was pulling into the parking lot of one of my former employers, Guitar Center. It had been one of the few employers I had parted with voluntarily. It was probably the last place I should have gone. I was in no position to add to my bass collection so all I could do was torture myself by looking at all the cool axes I would likely never own. Well, just because I wouldn't own them did not mean that I could not play them. I futzed around on several nice basses before I noticed a rather gorgeous Peavey Cirrus BXP, quilt maple with a tiger eye finish. I had long lusted after the high end -that means expensive but worth it in bass speak - custom Peavey Cirrus. The BXP - the much less expensive, mass produced retail version of the Cirrus - that was hanging on the wall was the closest I have ever come to a Cirrus. It had to be played.

I plugged it in, twiddled to tone controls and started the play. I realized immediately that this was the best feeling, best sounding bass I had ever handled. I played. I kept playing. Time passed unnoticed. The reality of what had just happened to me, of another job lost, faded to a low level buzz in the back of my mind. Eventually I looked down and saw the rather large, blood filled blister on the tip of my index finger. I had been playing longer and harder than I ever had before. I'm not sure what time I started, but my best guess is that I had played for 90 minutes.

I turned off the amp, hung a bass I would love to own but likely never will, headed out the door and headed home to tell Laura that I had lost another job.