Kazaam

Wow.

Where do I start?

I know, again,
at the risk of repeating myself,
over and over again,
I haven't been so good
at keeping you in the loop.

I've been busy, man,
I'm sorry.

I moved,
to Lincoln Park,
of all places.

But guess what?
I couldn't be happier,
honestly I couldn't.

I finished the album,
I told you that already,
and I'm mixing it now,
and I'm proud of it.

Tonight,
I played a fundraiser gig
in the suburbs of Chicago
to raise money for a
scholarship fund set up
in memory of the students
who were shot at NIU.

Northern Illinois University,
it's where a crazy guy burst in and shot people,
no...
a different one.

What's up with that, anyway?

Why do people feel the need
to take innocent folks out
with their own misery?

Just kill yourself
or a twisted politician
of John Lennon or something.

Don't take it out on innocent students, dick.

Whatever.

so I played this benefit,
and the guy who booked me,
he knows what I do.

He knows what I play,
and he knows I can't really hold it back.

It was a welcome side of humor
for the hurting and confused students,
they told me so.

I didn't play 50 Cent is a Pussy,
the "he got shot nine times" bit
seemed in poor taste.

But I did play my other songs,
and I am what I am.

So...
they booked me to play at 6:!5,
and the fundraiser was
all ages until 7 pm.

Which means,
the crowd was full of 8 year olds.

Ouch.

Well...
I am what I am,
as Popeye says.

I gave them two songs to
get the hint
and move their family
to the front bar.

There's music there too, people,
but I'm here to have some fun,
and lighten things up,
and I use swear words,
and I'm not going to
stop
because you're too stupid
to take your 8 year old out
of the bar.

I'm sorry,
I really am,
but that's what I was there for,
and I could tell that the people wanted it.

They wanted to laugh,
and forget, and escape,
and just have a good time.

And that happens to be
what I'm kind of good at.

So I gave it my all,
and I said my respects,
and I was tasteful and funny
and edgy but still cool
as I could be.

I tried.

and it seemed to work.

I stopped early,
and the crowd made me
play another song...

and then..
when I came back onstage,
truly against my will,
to play and encore.

And I mean it this time,
if you've seen me play before,
and seen my fake encore bit,
it wasn't like that,
I was done.

but they were cheering,
and the MC was doing that..
"do you guys wanna see Nice Peter
play one more song...? I can't hear you!?"
bit, and I was stuck.

So I came back out,
with my shirt half off,
as if to suggest I was getting
groupies backstage,
which I wasn't,
I was standing by myself,
trying to make sure I didn't offend anyone.

I came up to the mic,
and through my monitor,
so no one else can hear,
the sound guy says...

"the owner says you can't swear in this last one."

Are you fucking kidding me?

Are you a complete idiot?

I've had three pints of beer,
and a pretty big crowd egging me on,
and I've been swearing my ass off
for thirty minutes and they've been loving it,
and now you're going to order me to keep it clean?

It was trouble.

I've tried to explain this to people before,
but onstage, I play a character.

It's me, in a sense, but I'm not
always like that,
if I was, I'd go crazy,
and I wouldn't have any friends.

Which.. I don't really have anyway,
but it would be even worse
if I was a loudmouth, drunk,
asshole comedian smart ass
all the fucking time.

That's not me,
that's a side of me,
and I let it out onstage,
and I love it.

But..
once I start it,
I have to keep it up.

That character,
or that side of me,
does not give two fucks
about your bar
or your rules about swear words.

And if you ask me
not to swear in my last song,
you idiot,
that's when my that character is going
to tell you to fuck yourself and go ahead
and play the dirtiest song he knows.

Maybe even the Bush Song Part III,
and no one has ever heard that one.

You dumb ass bar owner,
you forced me into a corner,
where I need to pretend to be
a badass in order to save face
and keep up my crazy, zany Nice Peter image.

It's not even my fault,
it's only upon being challenged that
I have to stand up and teach you
how to suck your own dick.

So..
whatever.

I played Porn Star,
because "balls" isn't
even a swear word, technically,
is it?

As it happened,
it was awesome.

and I sold a ton of CDs,
and donated some of the money
to the Scholarship fund,
and met some really cool people,
and one crazy bitch who asked
me if I like Heroin and then tried
to sit on my lap.

gross.

I took some of the money
I made, and bought some
lottery tickets for the charity.

I ended up winning
a $50 gift certificate
to the Red Head Piano bar
in downtown Chicago.

I gave it to my booking agent, Bryan Adamick.

Because,
he saved me from losing my website this morning,
that's another story,
and he convinced me to do a gig
that I probably wouldn't have done,
but ended up really loving,
and...
because I fucking hate
the Red Head Piano bar.

-p