Rock!

It happened.

Eleven years later, Kung Fu Grip returned to the scene of the crimes (of which there were many) and ripped it up.

We rocked. We sucked. We were loud. Every band we played with was better than us, but we still felt like kings.

I saw people who were KIDS when I last saw them, now grown up, and playing in their own bands. They said we were the shit. I admit, that felt gooooood.

There were no kids, no wife, and no money. For a week, I lived off Lone Star Beer and V8s. Check out the pint of whisky in my back pocket.

There's not a lot I can write about it, except I love Brent, Tom and Pete like brothers, and I never even realized it. There's something to be said about music, punk rock, friends, alcohol and freedom, but I'll be damned if I know what it is.

I'll regret a lot of things on my deathbed, I'm sure. This ain't one of 'em.