Until the day I met Dave Ritter at Pleasing
Acres rehabilitation clinic, where I was recovering from another
amphetamine summer, I felt so alone. I wrote a song about that
called, ‘November.’ You should listen to it.
had volunteered as a counsellor, and was the first to break
through the wall of depression that inevitably ensues after
four solid months of believing, with all your soul, that you
can see through light. He took my child-like hand in his own
and said, just quietly enough so the all-male Confessions,
Okay! circle couldn’t
“Someday, little brother. Someday.”
from that day forth, my addiction would be to rock. And Diazepam.
How was I to know that I would
be one of two busily orbiting hydrogen molecules that, when
combined with rock’s life-giving
oxygen, was to form a sea of kick ass? A sea as in
panties. As in around my ankles on stage.
I wasn’t to
know. Was I? I don’t know. Listen to ‘November,’ it’s
all in there.
Since that day, many important things
have happened that I can no longer remember. I woke up to find
that I am now playing guitar and not the drums as I last
recall, and we have three new members, some of which,
quite frankly, I don’t like. Sure, we sound
better, but I have my doubts. It used to be just
Dave and I. Like Wilma and Betty, if they had been lesbians
and the prehistoric ages had been socially progressive, which
and that’s a shame.
And when those doubts arise,
I know I only need look up from my diary for but
a moment, to look, as always, to Dave - as I know
Dave looks to me in his darkest hours. Which can’t
be many because, as far as I know, he doesn’t
work or anything.
And there, twinkle-in-eye, I
can expect him to mouth silently…’Someday.’
that’s how I learned to read.
– by Conrad
CHOOSE A MEMBER
Steve – Guitar,
Kate – Keys,
Jeff – Bass
Mike – Drums