AN ARTIST IS AN ENTERTAINER IS A TRAVELER IS A HUMAN

And humans need breakfast.

[photo by Holden Warren]

Hello. You’ve reached Time & Temperature.

You regain consciousness in a small dark space. Nature calls. But before you even attempt to rise you grope for the small plastic vial to your right, always your right when possible, and administer ocular lubrication. You never do so without thinking of something your friend Bob once said about his irrational fear of accidentally grabbing super glue instead of eye drops. Every morning your first thought is of that unlikely scenario, and it makes you shudder. Every. Time. What a way to wake up. But these are just regular eye drops so you’ve already started off your day with a victory.

The layout of the room reveals itself to you, a familiar plot unfolding. The similarity of the hotel rooms comforts you, but the minute differences thrill you. This morning’s version of the room strikes you as a hipsterized take on an antique boarding house, charming kitsch and insufficient outlet space. Old photos from a historical era that lingers on, if only as décor.

You’ve read the studies (or the social media posts about the studies) that tell you how bad it is to reach for your phone first thing upon waking, but does anyone actually practice such restraint? You check your phone. You don’t have OCD per se, but if you climb out of bed before reading or trashing each and every email of which you’ve been notified, something terrible will happen. So you swipe and scan and even unsubscribe a few times. These emails are an invasive species threatening the perimeters of the tiny plot of land you defend amidst the chaos of the forest.

Nature still calls. And finally you emerge from the sanctuary of your, oh wow it’s an actual four-poster bed. You hope you got an artist rate on the room because, damn it’s fancy. Mindless performance of ablutions ensues as you listen to the morning show on your hometown talk radio station The Ticket via their app. They talk nonsense and sports. It’s just enough white noise to keep the mind-voices at bay. You think about Roky Erickson during his dark years when he used to keep multiple radios, stereos and TV’s playing in each room of the house at all times. You only need the one, so you tell yourself that you’re doing great.

You showered before bed eight hours ago because sleeping in the dried sweat of last night’s gig wasn’t an option. And you’re already halfway dressed because you slept in your Dallas Stars t-shirt — almost all your shirts are basically Stars-themed including this great shirt designed by Dave Hill.

You look at the in-room coffee station but you don’t trust it. You’re only allowed one, maybe two coffees a day, so you don’t want to waste your only remaining vice (not counting the occasional ice cream cone) on a watery, half-assed cup of hotel room coffee. Also, you suppose, the grumbling in your stomach will only get louder as the morning drags on. Oh, and there’s the ticking clock of the next gig, tonight’s gig, still a five hour drive from where you sit contemplating coffee.