The Comfort of Chaos

"There's something seriously wrong here," I said, referring to a relationship that I am currently engaged in.

"What's the problem?" asked my audience, a person that I've confide in for as long as I can remember.

"Absolutely nothing." I reply. I mean, she's gorgeous, fun, and has been treating me great!

Reminds me of the time we camped out in a barn located at the edge of nowhere just south of no place. My band was playing a festival called Backwater Bash organized by a carpenter who had a lot of land and a love of music. There were 10 plus bands playing two sets over two nights. We camped where we could, ate what we packed, and drank anything and everything with alcohol content, including a jalapeño wine that a creepy old man was passing around. The last few bands were setting up right around the time I passed out in the tent, approximately at 4 in the morning.

Regardless of the deep sleep that I fell in to I found myself wide eyed and border line scared about 2 hours later. The morning was quiet and I could hear voices in the distances.

"Good set man!"

"How about one more song?"

The last band had finished. They must have ended their set with a loud bang or something to have wakened me up. I tried to find a comfortable position to drift back asleep to but nothing would allow it. I realized later that the thing that woke me was not a loud bang or a tough nudge; far from it. The thing that woke me up and left me uneasy was the silence of the undeveloped countryside.

Strange how the loud chaos that is rock and roll was what soothed me to sleep yet the comfort calmness of nature make me edgy, paranoid even. I laid in my bed after that trip and dosed off quick, surrounded by the sirens and traffic of the big city. There was even a point when I heard a gunshot and smiled a little.

"Things are quiet," I whispered to my audience across the table from me. "Way too quiet."

"Actually things are quiet loud." she replied. “We’re at Swiss Chalet during a lunch rush.”

Oh, right…