Bullfights and Christmas at DJ's

Well, the time has come. My adorable wife and I blast off to Mexico mañana. I actually had a night of doubt that this was a wise decision as the cars need to be worked on and there are many hours I will miss from the day gig.
F…k it. Take the bus and find a place to stay and eat really good food, not that we cannot mess up a kitchen with the best.
Bullfights. I truly hope to take in a decent bullfight while down there. I am fully cognizant of the fact that this activity disgusts many people, but so what? I like them, always have and always will. The supreme spectacle of life and death swirling about in the afternoon sand is no less inspirational than tasting ice cream for the first time or losing one’s virginity. Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I am obviously more than a little passionate about the dance.
The only time I can remember being more excited was a gig I played with a band called the Visitors. It was Christmas Eve and at a small punk bar called DJ’s. I think the year was 1979. When we arrived to set up, there was this huge envelope awaiting us that was sent by an artist friend of mine. He had to have spent at least an entire day on this particular project.
The envelope is large. Inside was an piece of art that featured a dead Santa Clause in front of a graffiti-covered, brick wall. When opening this thing, it was filled with guitar picks and drum keys. There was a note that read: “Hey, I swear I didn’t kill that Santa dude, but found this shit in his pocket as I was walking by.”
Cool and unexpected gift and still have it, which says something as I rarely keep anything for very long.
Anyway, the place was packed. I wondered why and then realized that most of these people had nothing else to do on Christmas Eve. I suppose that could perceived as a sad thing, but balloons and tennis balls were tossed all around the bar and I think it was probably the best response I have ever received from a crowd. We probably were not even in tune and it did not matter. We were fast and loud.
Why that ties into the bullfights stretches my imagination a little bit, but sometimes memories can wander around in the brain and tie themselves in knots.
I doubt that I will be posting again for a few weeks because of the being in Mexico factor. Not that anybody will care because hardly anybody, as far as I can tell reads this page. Those who post an occasional reply are truly appreciated.
Adios por ahora,
Kid
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