|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
|
Mark Harp
Turns 42. Big fucking deal. report by Calvin Peru |
||||
|
On the evening of Wednesday, October 13, 1999, at approximately 11:00 PM, Mark Harp, noted
weirdo and loser never-was musician, sat at the keyboard of his computer and thought
deeply about the fact that he was spending his 42nd birthday in front of a computer. He'd
certainly had more interesting birthdays, and certainly had had more depressing birthdays,
but this one was calm and introspective, fitting of a 42 year old man still chasing his
teenage dreams. Mark thought about his website a lot. It had become his creative outlet almost exclusively. He hardly played any guitar anymore and hadn't written a song on purpose in months. His gig with the legendary Motor Morons seemed to be in limbo, with no gigs since July and no gigs in sight. "Even a practice would be good," thought Mark. His only other creative outlet was designing the sound and music for the play Vampire Alice, which had just closed after a somewhat disappointing three week run. Mark knew it was his best work in years, but felt too few people got to experience it live. He hoped people would download the songs from mp3.com and would then listen to them loud, but knew that most people just don't care about mp3's and the internet in general, let alone his weasel of a website. "At least Johnny caught me a buzz, gave me tickets to a free show, wrapped me in plastic, bought me cheesecake, broke my arm with a sudden kung-fu move, gave me an original work of art, caught me another buzz, and loaned me money at a reasonable interest rate," Mark thought, as he sipped at his luke-warm coffee. It was girl coffee, the kind with the perfume in it. Mark preferred a more robust blend. He enjoyed the word robust, with its images of warmth and brownness. "That Johnny is one heck of a guy, being so nice to me today and all that. I bet he wants something done on his website," thought our boy, as he lit yet another mentholated dream and sipped at the cool coffee. He knew he'd be awake a few more hours. He ground his teeth and finished the page, adding the links on the left side. Hours later, a brief online chat with an old girlfriend made Mark feel somewhat warmer, and he edited this bitter report into something a little more user friendly. "I wonder why I bother." thought Mark, knowing full well the answer was simple. He bothers because he can, he bothers because he has to. Mark remembered a drummer joke he'd heard and chuckled to himself. He enjoyed drummer jokes. He 's a simple man. Happy birthday, Mark, and we all hope you get some soon. You deserve it. |
"At last, forty two years old. Now my
|
||||
