The Living Rockumentary

CLEVEland. We pulled into CLEVEland under a veil of darkness. From a past drive-through, I knew that there was a beautiful and really great lake just off the road to our right, but the night-time made it impossible to see.

Our hotel was just off the highway and only a block or two away from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I've never been there (Ken and Brian both had) and I've been told, by our good friend Jose Ayerve, that a band can get in for free by providing a CD of their music. But it was too late at night and the fancy place was closed.

I probably would have enjoyed exploring it a little. I have no interest in seeing artifacts of musicians behind glass. I don't care if I am in the same building as, say, Mick Jagger's lip balm. I just like museum-type places. I enjoy the high ceilings, the movement of the air, the dark lighting, the carpet on the walls. Lots of times when I am in a museum, I spend just as much time enjoying the presentation of the exhibits as I do with the exhibits themselves. Being in a museum is like being inside a work of art sometimes. I dig that. I'm into that.

CLEVEland from the ninth floor window of the hotel, looked pretty dismal. Grey and greyer. We were right outside the airport, but I didn't see a single plane in the air. I'm sure the city is much nicer than it seemed. There must at least be pockets of greatness. Who am I to try and judge a city on a few hours spent looking over a two block radius. What a jerk. It was cold and grey in CLEVEland while I was there, does that mean that it is always cold and grey in CLEVEland? Of course, not. Don't hate me, CLEVElanders. I'm re-opening my heart to you. Forgive me for giving weight to my instant judgements.