I do so much music that it's like a fog, and I can't even remember all of it.
My first concert - maybe it was 1979 - was a blur. I'm not sure whether it was Blue Oyster Cult/Cheap Trick/Pat Travers at San Jose Civic Auditorium or The Police/The Knack/Robert Johnson at Berkeley's Zellerbach Auditorium.
Most of my childhood is a big blur, 'cause I needed better glasses.
It's funny, I listen to friends who talk about back when they were 14, eight, 16, whatever, as if it was yesterday. Me, I've no idea what I did. It's all a blur, I'm afraid.
The first time on stage is such a blur to me. I remember how it felt more than anything. I remember everything about the day before I went on stage - what I ate, the first person I met in the club, how I felt beforehand - but the actual being on stage is a total blur.
They are part of lots of sessions that makeup a hazy part of my session life.
I find that life is easier when it is just a blur With no details to confuse who or what or where I was So when the ending comes the full regret will be obscure
The answers were maddeningly absent—it was like trying to remember a song that you knew made you feel a certain way, without a title, artist, or even a few bars to bring it back.
