Where's the Box?

A few years ago, I had the good fortune to tour with a psych-pop band through Britain. It was an excellent experience, especially so because I was just the touring bass player (my friend Neil was the touring drummer) and thus I was an outsider watching the internal band politics as they played out.

Two members of the band had, until quite recently been a couple. For over 5 years if memory serves. Not only that, they were in another, much more serious band together, thus they never had the opportunity to escape each other and heal after the breakup. Out tour was almost called off in the aftermath, but luckily everyone came to their senses.

Neil used to joke about the male counterpart. "OK. This is how Ted works. He takes all his emotions and says 'I don't know what to do with all these emotions. Look at them, so many and i don't know how to deal with them. Oh, I know! I'll just put them in this box for when I need them.'

"Then when he needs them he says 'Hey, where'd I put that box?'"

Lately, outside of "anger" and "unhappiness" and their many varieties and flavors, I have to admit, I don't know where I put my box.

I gotta find that fucking box.