discouraged.

"Erloardgh?" The phone woke me up. The clock said that it was 3 AM, and I was inclined to believe it.

"Hey." He sounded down and tired. Usually putting on a show exhilarates him, but maybe Alabama was getting him down. He had called earlier in the evening and had sounded positively ecstatic that there was a tornado watch and the show was across the street from a trailer park. Maybe he was just happy to be out of the van after a ten hour drive.

"I'm sorry I woke you. But I said that I would call after the show."

"No, I'm glad you called. How was the show?"

"The first set was pretty good. The second set was a meltdown."

"A meltdown? What does that mean?" I was picturing all sorts of crazy situations. Like maybe the crowd had thrown rotten vegetables or the guitarist had swung the guitar at the drummer's head.

"Oh, you know, we were all off at some point or another." Oh, they had played badly. I gotcha.

"Well, I doubt the people who had never heard you before could tell."

"I guess." I keep forgetting that he doesn't respond to logic as a form of consolation.

"How was the other band?"

"They were okay. They played a lot of covers."

"Ugh. Well, what kind of covers? Good ones at least?"

"Yeah, they were good covers. It's just...discouraging." Audiences respond to cover bands because they'd rather hear a song they already know than original material, no matter how good it is. So you can work hard to write a great song, but it won't even matter because people don't listen to it.

"I know. It's what people like, though."

"Yeah, that's why they do it."

"Where are you sleeping tonight?" To save money, they were planning on crashing at people's houses when they could. And when they couldn't, well, the van had two free benches and two captain's chairs.

"In the van."

"Will you be warm enough?"

"Yeah, it's pretty warm here."

"I'm sorry you have to sleep in the van, baby."

"It's okay. We'll get up early and go to the beach."

"I miss you. I wish I was - well, no, I don't want to sleep in the van."

We talked a bit more before making our mushy goodbyes and hanging up. I rolled over in my soft, warm bed and felt sorry for my baby, 600 miles away. It looks easy to be a rock star, but it seems pretty hard to get there in the first place.