Monkey on my Back

I have a huge monkey on my back. It stems from my lack of musical talent. When I was in 7th and 8th grade I was a violin whiz, and then inexplicably I quit, and washed my dreams of opening up for Michael Buble down the drain. Since I am devoid of such skill I seek out new musical acts like Republicans seek out gay sex scandals. I invest my heart in unknown musical acts hoping that they strike it big, and in turn I vicariously strike it big, because I can then lay claim to the fact that "I knew them first." The dark side of such devotion is that when they get too big I turn my back on them, they are now far too popular for me, it isn't chic anymore. The romance is dead.

I was in the process of Youtubing a couple of bands and came across an unknown drummer. My day was saved and I was transfixed by the greatest drummer since John Bonham (look him up bitches). This video is my new saving grace. It hurts my heart by creating an inordinate amount of jealousy. Why am I not as good as this gorilla.