The Monk Has Chest Pains

Nick "Sewer Boy" Ciani arrived at the Mojo Dojo Rehearsal Space and Hair Care Products Storage facility last night and turned down the traditional McDonald's 99 Cent Double Cheeseburger. It's like when your cat refuses a delicious plate of stinky salmon parts - something's wrong; perhaps it's time for a trip to the vet. (A good vet is probably all your health plan allows these days, anyway. You can pick up your antibiotics at PetSmart. Everybody's happy.)
"My acid reflux has been upgraded to heart disease," Nick said. "I've been living like a monk and what did it get me?"
It's true. Nick denies himself many pleasures. He said he'd only scored a gentlemanly "C" on his treadmill test.
"The only question is: what's the tune that's going to come up of this?" said Kenton. Nick turns many of his life events into poems and songs. It's virtually impossible to tell what's going on without detailed, Cliff-notes style explanation, but it usually turns out that songs like "Super Ego on Vacation" are based on actual events. Nick said he thought a good idea for a song might be "Fuck the Monk."
I thought I detected a note of anger.
"Well, it's not the kind of news you want to get at 50," Nick said.
It's serious. They're going to shoot his heart full of dye on Friday to see if he's got any blockages in his coronary artieries. I suppose they could wheel him right into surgery if they find actual cheesburger fragments in there.
Rehearsal went poorly, of course. My version of "They Call me Guitar Hurricane" sounded more like "They Call Me Guitar Natural Disaster." Nick was so distracted by the though of his heart exploding during a solo that he said "I couldn't find my ass with both hands tonight." Kenton was sick, too. A terrible cold and one of his eye-popping headaches. He couldn't find it ass with a global satellite ass positioning system. Only Player X seemed on top of things, even correcting on on songs we'd been playing for months.
Nights like this are depressing. Last week's practice, following the Hilltop Tavern Gig, was so good, too. But this is Geezer Rock, I guess. Old guys with heart problems doing the best they can.
Pete Townshend sang "I hope I die before I get old," in "My Generation." We're now ammending that to "I hope I don't die before I get old." We sent Nick off into the night with a hug and the usual black jokes ("Hey, if something happens, can I have your record player?") I should remind him that Howlin' Wolf continued to give it up mightly on stage after two heart attacks and kidney failure that required dialysis three times a week. A man whose coronary arteries are filled with trans fats, cigarette butts and pork rinds might feel ridiculous singing "I Want to Hold Your Hand," but certainly "Going Down Slow" would acquire new dignity.
Say a prayer for Sewer Boy. I have no intention of fronting a power trio.
©2007 Edward Dean Chance. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.